


The Visa

by Calicy



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calicy/pseuds/Calicy
Summary: Nyota needs to stay on Vulcan when her visa expires and as Amanda mentions, and Nyota is VERY aware, Spock is available - to help.
Relationships: Spock/Nyota Uhura
Comments: 37
Kudos: 145





	1. Chapter 1

"Greetings Ms. Uhura. How are you this afternoon?"

Nyota grins tightly, stomps down the urge to remind her advisor Syrran that her thesis is due in a month and that she really doesn't have time for this urgent meeting, and responds, "Fine. And yourself?"

Syrran hesitates, no doubt reviewing his mandated training on how to effectively interact with humans, and Nyota jumps at the pause, "What did you need from me again? Edits? Did I forget to show you my updated data?

She can practically hear the gears turning in his head. She suspects she interrupted some preformed script of how their conversation would go.

“Did you get approval to give me that text?” Nyota encourages, leaning forward.

She has an entire page dedicated to current research on telepathic communication via mental electrical signals. Syrran had already secured nearly fifty documents for her on the subject, an incredible resource. Now that she thinks about it, she could stand to have more data on wavelengths and how it translated to syntax. In her head, she begins reviewing her paper to include potential additions when Syrran says, “May I be tactless?”

“Honestly, I would prefer that, professor.”

"The visa the university secured for you has been invalidated. The embassy asked me to inform you that you are required to submit your plans for departure at your earliest convenience.

It takes Nyota a moment to understand what he is saying but when she does, her blood boils. What he is, saying in the nicest way, is that she needs to get the hell off this planet.

“Doctor,” Nyota says, trying her best not to snap, “I am required to write a thesis which is no less than one hundred pages and no library in the galaxy has the resources yours does. My topic is rather specific. The task would be next to impossible back on Earth.”

“You will be unable to access such literature from off planet,” Syrran says. It sounds for a moment like he is sympathizing with her but Nyota quickly realizes he is simply stating fact, albeit with what seems to be unintentional ruthlessness.

“I need three more weeks, at least, to finish my work.” Nyota says, trying to keep her voice even and on the brink of failing. His face is devoid of any inkling of sympathy and she adds flicking her hands, “I've put three years into this paper. I need to finish.”

“Perhaps I should have allowed for more casual conversation before sharing this unfortunate information,” Syrran says.

His misunderstanding of the situation nearly drives Nyota to scream in pain. Instead, she takes a breath and says, “I have only fourteen pages written.”

That was a lie. She had just started the abstract. Admitting that out loud, however, would be too much to handle in that present moment.

“I am confused as to why you believe that statement is pertinent to this conversation,” Syrran says, “It seems you would indeed need more resources to synthesize into your research but as I just stated, those offered by the Vulcan Science Academy are no longer available to you.”

“Surely you can do something,” Nyota says, “There has to be some way I can stay on Vulcan until my paper is done.”

Now, Syrran just looks bewildered, or as close to it as a Vulcan can look. "Ms. Uhura, I have no privileges in this institution which would be of any assistance to you. You are free to review the specifications for said visa with the embassy. At this time, however, you must vacate the planet. I would remind you, however, that the Academy accepts intergalactic exchange students annually. Perhaps in a year, you may be given permission to return and complete your project."

In a year?! In a year, it was her plan to have completed her degree and have secured a commission onboard one of the most elite vessels in Starfleet. The USS Enterprise had already begun handing out commissions. If she fell behind, she would be overlooked for sure.

“Doctor,” Nyota begins, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from raising her voice, “Respectfully, when I accepted this placement on Vulcan, it was under the condition I could complete my paper with the needed resources. As that is what I was promised, I will not be going anywhere - ”

“Circumstances change, often and rapidly,” Syrran says. Then, as if he thinks she forgot, “When your visa was valid, you were permitted to study at our Academy. Your visa is no longer valid and you are not permitted to study at our Academy at this time.”

Nyota takes a deep breath, which does nothing for the burning in her throat. As justified as she thinks it would be, no Vulcan would support her decision to verbally express her exasperation with vulgarities.

She begins performing the meditative breathing exercises Sarek had taught her and is able to ask, in an impressively calm voice, “How long until I am expected to leave Vulcan?”

“You have until 1400 today.”

“That’s four hours from now,” Nyota says, feeling a pulsing behind her eye. Her own panic feels like a vice around her neck.

“They expressed the opinion that it was an adequate amount of time to prepare for your departure.”

A thousand different thoughts and emotions float through Nyota’s mind. Unfortunately, Syrran mistakes her silence.

“This is the moment when the conversation has reached completion, correct?” Syrran asks, “My apologies, I did poorly on my assessment regarding recognition of the non-verbal cues humans use to signal the termination of communication. Silence is an expression of farewell as I understand.”

It isn’t but she can’t bring herself to say so. She can barely bring herself to breathe. Finally, she pulls herself together. She has four hours. She will find a way. She will take every minute she has. She will not go quietly.

“Live long and prosper, doctor.”

“Live long and prosper, Miss Uhura. I have very much enjoyed our companionship. You are a deceptively logical human. I was warned you might be angry at this decision.”

Don’t strangle him. Don’t wonder what it would feel like to put your hands around his neck. Don’t imagine him gasping for breath as you demand to know why he didn’t fight this decision at all.

“I try.”

.  
.  
.  
.

“Amanda!” Nyota’s voice rings through the halls of her temporary - perhaps very temporary - home. Her heart aches at the thought of leaving the family which took her in. Sarek and Amanda both have become her dear friends in the short time they have had together and Spock -

Well, that is a bit more complicated. Or it hadn't been until Amanda had set them up on a blind date.

“Amanda - oh!”

Speak of the devil. Spock stares down at her, blinking.

“My mother is in her office,” Spock says.

“I didn't know where she was,” Nyota says. She winces when she hears herself.

“That would explain why you were calling out her name loudly,” Spock replies.

They stand, staring at each other. Unable to continue the conversation, Nyota finally manages, “I'll just go and see her in her office.”

He nods and she races away, up the stairs. She has an hour and thirty seven minutes until her deportation.

Amanda’s office is a sanctuary from the rest of the house. It’s decoration matches her foster mother’s personality well: soft blues, comfortable furniture, and a room temperature of 75 degrees fahrenheit where the rest of the planet is well over a hundred.

Amanda waves when she sees Nyota, gesturing to the comm at her ear and rolling her eyes. She puts a hand on the speaker and says, “Michael is misbehaving again.”

Nyota forces a laugh and Amanda tilts her head, a concerned expression crossing her face. Nyota shakes her head. She shouldn’t be asking Amanda and Sarek for favors like this, even if they are tied to the embassy. They have already taken her into their home and treated her like family. Before Nyota can help herself though, she is saying, “I need help.”

“I’ll be right down,” Amanda says, “Wait for me in the kitchen.”

Nyota goes back to the kitchen and sits down at the table, forcing her breathing into a calming pattern. It is for nothing. A moment later, Spock appears.

“My mother asked me to make tea,” he says, avoiding her eyes.

“Oh,” Nyota says, “Thank you.”

She examines her fingernails closely but finds herself watching him out of the corner of her eye. As he goes to fill the kettle with water, the afternoon sunlight filters in from the window over the sink, illuminating his lovely features.

She shakes her head but she can’t help but remember what his lips felt like on her skin. That thought is forced away. They had both agreed to never acknowledge that.

He’s going to be your superior when you both go back to the Academy, Nyota thinks. She crosses her legs. She had been working for almost a decade for this dream. She would not lose it for a silly attraction.

“Well then,” Amanda says, rushing in, a breath of fresh air in the stagnant awkwardness, “What seems to be the problem?”

Nyota sighs, guilt settling in her chest. Spock is watching the exchange from his place at the sink. More than anything, Nyota wishes he would leave.

It’s bad enough she had to beg like this for her future. The least he could do is go away.

“My visa which allowed me to study at the VSA was invalidated,” Nyota finally manages, “I now have under two hours to get off Vulcan.”

Amanda shakes her head, “Oh, no. No no no. This wouldn’t do at all. How can they do this?” Before Nyota can respond, Amanda has reached for her PADD, “Well, I wouldn’t let them do this, that’s what. Can you refile for a new visa?”

“I already looked into that.” Nyota thinks back to the embassy, where she had gone back and forth between the same five offices. After two hours of that, she had felt certain it was a game to the embassy workers. Her head hurts just thinking of going back, “At the very least, it would take two weeks to process the paperwork. They want me gone today and I have no basis for an emergency stay, even a short one.”

Amanda scans the document in front of her. Leaning closer, Nyota can see that it’s a brief on eligibility requirements for temporary citizenship.

“Sickness,” Amanda says, “They wouldn’t force you off the planet if you were gravely ill. It would be a huge scandal. The Federation requires that you be given needed medical care even if there is an order for you to leave the planet.”

“She will be subject to an examination,” Spock says. He is still standing by the counter, away from them but obviously listening to the conversation.

Amanda waves a hand, “Refugee status? Vulcan offers asylum to those who have suffered persecution related to various humanitarian concerns.”

“No,” Nyota says, without even considering the idea, “That might take away from someone who actually needed it. I wouldn’t do that.”

Amanda nods, smiling at Nyota, before she turns her attention back to the PADD. She suddenly makes a face. She opens her mouth and then immediately closes it.

“What?” Nyota asks.

“I think we might have a solution but it might be a sacrifice - ” Amanda looks at Spock, who quirks his head in response. “Well not too much of a burden really. You’re an intelligent, interesting, beautiful woman. And neither of you would have to do anything unless you were so inclined.”

“What is it?” Nyota asks. She looks at Spock. As if feeling her attention on him, he returns her stare. She looks away, trying to hide the flush in her cheeks.

“No,” Amanda says, putting the PADD down.

“Ok then,” Nyota sets her hands on the table. There is no time to waste with fussiness or anger. “I think it might be time for me to go pack my things then.”

Nyota begins to formulate a plan. She can spare a little bit of time but only a little. Her thesis is due in exactly thirty one days. On the flight home, she will do outlining and complete her synthesis of the articles she already had saved. She must go straight to the administration of Starfleet and then to the Terran Embassy in San Francisco. If she is able to return within 3 weeks and if she throws herself into this work even more than she already has, surely she can finish in time -

“What if you were to be married?” Amanda says, “Not even married really. Engaged would be enough.”

Spock and Nyota are both silent. Neither had to ask to whom Nyota would be falsely engaged. Amanda has not been subtle in her enthusiasm.

“How much would either of you be pretending?” Amanda says, lightly.

Finally, Nyota brings herself to look at Spock. His eyes are on her and she feels the familiar sensation of sparks running down her back at his attention.

Nyota tries to think of another way but this might be it.

And of all the lies Amanda has suggested, of all the hardships which await Nyota in trying to return, this decision is not the most arduous.

“What do you think?” Nyota asks Spock. Her voice is low. She curses the strange shyness which always seems to overcome her around him.

“It’s not lying out of malice. It’s rebellion against a stupid rule. Who says that knowledge should be reserved for those who have permission from some fussy government official?” Amanda says.

Spock does not respond for so long that Nyota is certain he is going to refuse until he finally says, “Your work is significant. I would like to contribute to its completion.”

Nyota almost cries with relief but she still feels the need to assure him, “You don’t have to do this.”

“It is my desire to,” Spock replies. There is a warmth in his eyes that makes Nyota’s heart flutter.

“Ah! Finally, another daughter!” Amanda cries out, pulling both Spock and Nyota from their moment.

Amanda brings Nyota into a tight embrace. In spite of herself, Nyota hugs Amanda back, while also looking to Spock over his mother’s shoulder and saying, “Thank you.”

He looks at her, in that way that he does, where his eyes are smiling. Then a darker emotion passes across his expression and he looks away.

Before Nyota can begin to think about Spock’s sudden mood change, Amanda is pulling her towards the front door, “Come on. We have to get your name on some paperwork.”

.  
.  
.

There is a part of Nyota that wonders if the ever logical Vulcans will possibly believe that Spock and Nyota fell in love and wish to get married, without any pomp or circumstance and after only allegedly knowing one another for a few months, but the embassy staff takes one look at Amanda and make the necessary arrangements without questions.

For several days after, Nyota throws herself into her work. She appreciates Spock and Amanda, but if their ruse is discovered, she doesn’t want to end up back in her old situation.

And she tries not to think about discovery. She can’t even begin to conceive how she would explain to Starfleet why she had pretended to be the fiancee of the Vulcan Ambassador’s son, who also happens to be her future superior officer.

Even Sarek had to remain ignorant of the situation. Amanda had not wanted to risk his knowing, given his role. When he had been informed of the change in circumstance, he had only congratulated them and tried to hide what Nyota could only guess was surprise at the sudden happening.

The first day is torture. Nyota is certain someone would come and haul her away. The second is not as bad but that is mostly due to a wonderfully complex book on syntax which is a nice distraction. The third is awful but that has nothing to do with her project.

There is a blonde girl waiting in the study room which Nyota usually occupies. She wears the cadet reds and a smile that is so fake, Nyota is forced to return it.

“Julia,” Nyota says, “I didn’t know you were studying on Vulcan.”

“I wasn’t. The VSA only takes one cadet from Starfleet each year. However, I did manage to convince a private sponsor to send me. She is very interested in my work on surgical nanotechnology.”

There is a hidden story which neither of them touches on. There had been one fellowship for a student looking to access the resources on Vulcan. Nyota and Julia had both been the final applicants in consideration. It had come down to a matter of grades, which had tipped the scales in Nyota’s favor.

“I heard your visa got invalidated. Something about a typo on your paperwork?” Julia says, interrupting Nyota’s thoughts.

“Typo? Who said anything about a typo?” Nyota searches her memories but she is certain Syrran hadn’t mentioned anything about there being an error. “Who told you about a typo?”

“Could have sworn I heard something about a signature in the wrong place,” Julia says, shrugging, “But I can see you’re still here.”

“I am,” Nyota says, her smile becoming more strained by the minute, “I just remembered I have to go check on something at home. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“You will. I’m staying with Ambassador Sarek and his wife too,” Julia says.

“Wonderful,” Nyota says, “You can proofread my thesis for me. Seems you’re good at that sort of thing.”

“Of course,” Julia says, the corner of her mouth twitching, “And I can meet your fiancee.”

She says the word fiancee with such thinly veiled disgust, Nyota is forced to stop. Cold dread sinks through Nyota’s veins as she turns back to look at Julia.

“We were all surprised to hear about that,” Julia says, “Especially since it coincided so closely with your visa troubles. And to a recently promoted commanding officer. Very interesting.”

If there were one soul in the entire universe that Nyota would not want to know about this situation, it’s Julia. Back at the Academy, there was only so much damage that their rivalry could do. On Vulcan, however, Julia could easily ruin everything.

And in all honesty, Nyota had simply thought it would all pass. They both had, after all, become very successful in their own rights. Now, it is clear though. Julia had not forgotten. She had just been waiting to strike.

This wouldn’t get Julia the commission she wanted. That Gaila, and Nyota by unintentional association, had taken away. The next best thing, though, was to ruin Nyota’s chance of a spot onboard the Enterprise.

“I’m sure he will be thrilled to meet you,” Nyota says. She backs away, never taking her eyes off Julia until they can no longer see each other and then Nyota rushes home. Spock must be warned.

.  
.  
.

“I do not understand the human behavioral phenomenon of rivalry,” Spock says, “Competition should be welcomed as a means of personal betterment.”

That is absolutely nothing of what Nyota wanted him to conclude from the recollection but she doesn’t say so.

Spock looks at her and adds, as if reading her mind, “I am merely trying to point out the positive aspects of the current situation. Perhaps her presence on Vulcan will encourage you to perform even more exceptionally on your thesis.”

“We don’t have that kind of relationship,” Nyota says, “I kind of ruined her life.”

“How so?”

“Well, a year ago, we were in the same GE course, an introductory leadership class. The top grade would get a place in an advanced class, which only takes ten cadets a year. Having the placement in the advanced class looks phenomenal on any CV. It’s almost essential for any application for a Chief Officer position, in any department.”

“I am aware,” Spock replied, “I was also in that course.”

“So you know how people can get over it. Well, Julia and I took it a little overboard. She would try to take me down during classroom presentations by asking complicated questions, which never worked by the way, and then I would argue on test questions and make her lose points. We did those kinds of things to each other all semester. She and I were evenly matched, grade for grade, until the very last paper.”

“You encourage one another to accomplish extraordinary achievements.”

“Kind of. You haven’t heard the whole story,” Nyota says.

In truth, the night the paper was due, Nyota, having finished a bit early, had gone out with Gaila and had gotten a little too drunk. In her inebriated state, Nyota had fumed about the whole situation. With no prompting, Gaila had taken it upon herself to hack into Julia’s comm and sabotage her paper. Nyota had been furious but Gaila had insisted she had only put in a few misspelled words and punctuation errors.

The next morning, Nyota found out that not only had Gaila indeed ruined Julia’s paper, she had accidentally gone further.

She had deleted Julia’s paper.

“Let’s just say,” Nyota continues, not wanting Spock to know the whole truth, “My friend, thinking I wanted her to, somehow managed to erase Julia’s final assignment.”

“I see,” Spock says, eyebrows rising, “Unfortunate.”

“You’re putting it lightly,” Nyota says, “Julia was enraged but my friend made no mistakes. No one could trace the deletion back to me or or my friend. Her work was just gone. The professor was not touched by Julia’s plight. Julia had been forced to rewrite the paper, which she did, in an impressive thirteen hours but because it was technically turned in a day late, she was docked a full letter grade.

Spock is staring at her with an unreadable expression. Nyota fidgets under his gaze, wondering what he is thinking. She hasn’t even gotten to the worst part.

Nyota had begged Gaila to turn herself in and for a while, it seemed like Gaila had done so. Her friend had taken only remedial classes and seemed to be in detention almost constantly. It wasn’t until just the very last semester, that Nyota had realized Gaila was just a terrible student who had never confessed to what she had done to Julia.

Nyota had wanted to tell the truth but the Leadership class was over and there was no way Julia’s career could be fixed. It would have ruined Gaila’s career entirely and for little reason. Nyota had reluctantly stayed silent.

“So I cost her a leadership posting on one of the best starships. As you can imagine, she’s angry, which is why I think she brought it to the attention of the embassy that there was an issue with my paperwork.”

“As I can gather from my experience with human psychology, you believe she will attempt to achieve revenge for your past indiscretions.”

“Yes,” Nyota says, wincing, “So, uh, we - and I mean you and I - will, well, we’ll have to pretend we’re engaged. And what I mean by that is . . . affection.”

“I see.” Again, Spock wears an unreadable expression.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Nyota asks, trying not to nervously chew her nails. It was a disgusting habit she had kicked by painting her cuticles but the urge often arose when she was embarrassed, “I understand if you draw a line there.”

“There will be no issue,” Spock says.

Nyota looks at him. There is an intensity in his eyes that makes her think of that hidden, hard to forget moment they had had after the dinner Amanda has forced them on. He had touched her with such intensity and she often wondered what might have occurred if they hadn’t heard Amanda and Sarek return home.

“Alright then,” Nyota says, clearing her throat, “Thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

.  
.  
.

The next day Nyota receives instructions from Starfleet Command. Apparently to engage in interspecies fraternization, she must file paperwork with medical (to determine “compatibility”) and admin (for her personnel file).

Nyota is so certain Julia had a hand in it that she has to sit down for fear she will run into the neighboring room, which Julia naturally selected for herself, and strangle the other girl.

Nyota imagines an ancient medical officer, trying to determine if intercourse between a Vulcan and a human is possible, or a future commander reading about her brief engagement.

There is no doubt in her mind that Spock has them too. She can only imagine what he is thinking.

She fills out the forms but makes several errors which will invalidate them. Only a few more weeks and everything will be fine, she tells herself, only a little while longer and the lies can stop. These papers aren’t real, just like her engagement. It will all just go away soon.

All she wanted was to write a paper and get a spot as a CCO. What did she do to deserve this?!

Oh. Right.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t that hard pretending to be Spock’s fiancee. It just entailed an occasional hand on the shoulder, a kiss in the air over his cheek. That wasn't a big deal. It really wasn’t. Nyota’s gestures were always over clothing, never skin to skin. Even this seemed to be taboo when directed at a Vulcan, especially given the circumstances, but Nyota prayed it was enough to convince Julia. 

“Can you feel the love?” Julia said after watching Nyota stroke Spock’s arm. 

“They’re cute, aren’t they?” Amanda replied. She smiled at Nyota, who grinned tightly back. 

Amanda didn’t know Julia like Nyota did. There was nothing in Julia’s tone that was innocent. To Nyota’s ears, Julia’s sarcasm was barely concealed. It wasn’t a statement. It was a threat. 

Nyota panickes. A moment later, when she places a bowl of soup in front of Spock, she leans down to kiss his cheek at the exact time that he turns to thank her. Their lips touch for only a second. Then Nyota pulls away, putting a hand to her mouth before she can stop herself. 

She tries not to name the emotion that floods through her at his touch. She only notes that it made her chest ache and her knees weak.

Spock turns away, as if his cup of tea is the most interesting thing he has ever seen.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nyota looks to Julia, who is sitting nearby, eating lunch with them. The other woman has her full attention on her PADD and is completely oblivious to the horrifying situation happening only a few feet from her. Nyota curses in her head. 

“I’m sorry,” Nyota says to Spock, much later, when they’re alone. 

“As I said before, I do not find this situation difficult,” Spock replies.

“Do you really? Not find this particular situation difficult, I mean.”

His back straightens and his tone is more than a bit sharp when he asks, “Why would I find difficulty in our present circumstances?”

“Please,” Nyota rolls her eyes. The moment she says it, she feels guilty. The word echoes in her mind. It was what she had said over and over the first time they had kissed, albeit that time she was talking with much more clear intent. 

Her lips begin to burn at the thought. They are in the parlor, where Amanda and Sarek greet guests. Nyota is actually sitting on the couch where she and Spock had made out after their disastrous dinner. 

He had been a very good kisser and Nyota hates herself for thinking so. Both of their careers could be destroyed by a stupid affair. 

Actually both their careers could be destroyed by a real relationship or a fake relationship, if they played their cards correctly. For the upteenth time, Nyota feels guilty at the position they are in because of her. She had kissed him then and now she had let him take this risk for her. 

As if hearing her thoughts and wanting to make her feel worse, Spock says, his tone low, “I apologize for sounding flippant.” 

He does so without sounding sorry at all. She wishes for another emotion from him. Anger on his part just aggravates her more and is nearly impossible to deal with. 

Nyota wonders idly if she could convince Julia that strangulation was a form of affection. 

.  
.  
.

Nyota is frustrated in many ways. In a (somewhat) nice break, she knows exactly what is pissing her off about her current situation.

“What’s your paper on?” Nyota asks innocently. She is trying very hard not to be annoyed that Julia is in the linguistics library and failing completely. 

“Surgical nanotechnology,” Julia replies. She glances at Nyota and then pointedly doesn’t continue. 

“That’s right. You’re an engineering major,” Nyota says. She tries to turn her attention back to the paper she is summarizing but finds herself saying instead, “You know that library is actually down the hall. I think you’ll find those resources more relevant to your topic.”

Julia nods. She holds up a finger, takes her sweet time finishing the paragraph she is reading before saying, “I’m interested in the current work being done regarding the universal translator so I thought I’d thrown in some stuff about that.”

“Of course. A paper on surgical nanotechnology isn’t complete without some information about the universal translator.” 

The smile on Julia’s face makes Nyota’s blood boil. Nyota forces herself to smile back. She wouldn’t give Julia more of what she wants. 

Then the woman has to go and ask, “How much more work do you have left? I see you working here in the library so often! You must be nearly done.”

Nyota is not a violent person but the urge to strike the other woman is so overwhelming, Nyota begins to shake, “I just started the abstract.”

Julia glances over. Nyota tries to cover her PADD but it is too late. The two sentences, the fruit of two hours of agonizing are clearly visible. Julia makes a noise and Nyota has to clench her fists to stop herself from doing something regrettable. 

If there was a person alive who could easily synthesize an entire paper in a neat paragraph, Nyota had yet to meet them and if they did exist, Nyota wished they would get themselves to Vulcan and help her write. 

“Doesn’t Spock visit you?” Julia asks, “You’re apart from each other so much. Don’t you ever meet up just to see each other?”

What kind of boyfriends has Julia had that she thinks regular affection and consideration are standard in a relationship? A good date for Nyota, unfortunately, was someone who would listen to what she had to say rather than just ogling her. 

“He’s busy. I’m busy. We see each other when we can. It’s not ideal but it works for now.”

“Until you’re married,” Julia says, as if Nyota could forget her precarious situation. 

“Yes.”

“Any ideas for your wedding? You guys will probably have to hurry. The Enterprise is almost gone and they wouldn’t even consider placing you on the same ship unless you’re married,” Julia notes, watching Nyota like a hawk. 

That was right. Spock had heard the official news two days prior. He had been accepted as Chief Science Officer and First Officer, with a promotion and honors. 

“That’s true. It really throws a wrench into things. We didn’t expect that promotion.”

“Of course not,” Julia makes such a face that Nyota can’t tell if she’s smiling or about to scream, “But I’m sure you’ll enjoy getting a spot on the Enterprise because of who your husband is.”

“I can earn a spot myself. I don’t need to be an exception.”

She can and will. Her mother said it was because she was the middle child but once Nyota set her mind to a task, she accomplished it no matter what needed to be done.

All she had to do was keep this farce going until she could find a way to end it without any repercussions for the involved parties, survive Julia, and most importantly, finish this abstract and the paper after it.

Damn it.

.  
.  
.

Eleven hours later, Nyota has three sentences in her abstract, a massive headache from grinding her teeth at Julia all day, and a hunger so fierce, she is weak from it.

All she wants is something to eat and to climb into bed. She made a schedule for herself and in order to stay on track, she can only sleep for four hours. Still, she finds herself lingering in the doorway, staring at nothing. 

This will all be worth it, she tells herself. She has spent the last several years trying to become a CCO. Not only will she have the respectable, stimulating career she has always wanted, she will be a part of something bigger than herself. She will be an explorer and a learner, a resource, a voice. She will mean something to the universe.

The thought is nice until she notices the light is on in the kitchen and someone is waiting for her. 

“My mother asked that I remain awake to ascertain the state of your well being,” Spock says, the moment he sees her. He looks her up and down. Then, in a noticeably careful tone, he asks, “What would you like me to tell her?”

It takes her a moment to compose herself. Finally, Nyota manages, “Your mother isn’t here.” Amanda had informed them this morning that she and Sarek would be at an embassy dinner for most of the night. 

Amanda had left them a pot of curry and Spock placed a bowl down for her. 

“But I’m not complaining,” Nyota says. She eats several spoonfuls before she manages, “Thank you.”

“It was a simple task,” Spock replies, sitting down across from her. 

“It’s a little more than that,” Nyota says. She hopes he knows what she is really grateful for. She appreciates him more than he might ever know. She is so tired, she cannot help but add, “After the day I’ve had, it means a lot.”

He tilts his head. “Please explain further.”

“Julia will not leave me alone. I feel like she’s pushing me more and more to prove we are engaged. And I hate it. I’m sorry. I know I’ve said it before but I mean it. I don’t mean to use you like this,” Nyota says, “You’ve been great. I just wish there were another way.”

He nods and Nyota wishes she could know how he feels about their affection. Is he angry? Is he embarrassed? Does he care at all? All he does to give her a glimpse into his mind is say, “In the face of obstacles, sometimes we have to adjust our strategies.”

It’s more than a little infuriating but Nyota just nods, too tired to articulate herself, “All this hassle just for a title, am I right?”

His expression doesn’t change. She immediately regrets her attempt at humor. That is, until he adds:

“In this and in all your endeavours, I strongly believe you will be successful. If it is your goal to achieve a commission onboard one of Starfleet’s elite vessels, you will attain said position,” Spock says, “Regardless of what obstacles you encounter.”

Nyota has always believed confidence must be born from within first and foremost. Still, the Academy is so competitive and no one ever pats each other on the back and her work has been taking everything out of her lately. So she finds herself saying, “Really?”

“I spoke the truth in my previous statement,” Spock says, “Other faculty have informed me that you are exceptional. All evidence I have gathered supports this assertion.”

It’s so much coming from him that she has to smile. Something changes in his eyes. She leans towards him and the shift in his expression becomes even more pronounced. Is it pride? Affection, maybe? Nyota knows what she feels: complete adoration, “I just have to say it again. I couldn’t do this without you. I hope you know that.”

“You would succeed irregardless of my assistance. You would find a method to achieve your goals,” Spock replies, “It is a trait that will make you a superlative Starfleet officer.”

“Thank you,” Nyota says. Without thinking, she reaches out. She pats his hand for the briefest second before she remembers herself. 

They both freeze at the contact but neither move to pull away. It’s not unpleasant to be close to him, she realizes. She wonders if he thinks so too. 

For a moment, she swears she can feel a strange new attraction, one that is not directed outward but inward, to herself. Dimly, she remembers reading about the telepathic touch of Vulcans. 

The desire to touch him is strong and she feels her hand move up his arm. Eyes wide, Spock pulls away and the need vanishes. A door slams. Spock stands, takes the plate of her half-eaten dinner to the sink. 

Julia enters minutes later. Once again, she had missed their affection. Nyot curses a dozen different things. 

.  
.  
.

The next morning, Spock is reading at the kitchen table. Nyota has every intention of walking past him and heading straight to the library where her thesis nearly demands her attention. Then, she makes a mistake of looking at the title of Spock’s book, which is in large font at the top of his PADD, and in her surprise at the subject, she stops. 

Spock is reading the complete works of William Shakespeare

She stands for too long, watching him, and finally Spock turns to face her. She smiles and gestures to his reading material, “I never knew you liked him.”

Spock looks up, discretely tucking the PADD out of sight before saying, “It is, as my mother would say, a guilty pleasure.”

She is not sure if it is the glimpse into his persona or the fact that he shares such a secret but the words on his lips do something strange to Nyota. There was a hidden side to him, one she had seen small pieces of that were infinitesimally intriguing. 

She nods furiously as if this will force the thoughts from her head, “I’ll see you around.”

He watches her, a bewildered expression on his face, “Yes, you most likely will.”

Outside, she stops, leans against a wall to catch her breath. Focus, she tells herself. Her heart still beats at the thoughts from before, ignoring her demands.

.  
.  
.

It can’t mean anything to her and it wouldn’t. And to prove just how little it means to her, Nyota buys an audio reading of Shakespeare for Spock. 

“To say thank you,” Nyota says when she presents it to Spock. 

He gives her a look, no doubt wondering what she is thankful for. 

She lists off a few things in her head. For going along with this crazy scheme. For letting me fondle you for my own gain. For believing in me, especially when I barely believe in myself anymore. None of these seem worthy of articulation.

“You are welcome,” Spock says as if he can hear her thoughts.

She should go and read or write or do something else but she finds herself lingering. Spock is setting up the program on his PADD which will allow him to listen to the audio reading. When he feels her eyes on him, he looks up. 

Their eyes meet for just a split second too long. 

“So, he’s your favorite, huh?” Nyota says. It’s something to say. 

“His words are extravagant.” He stops almost mid sentence, before admitting. “As an adolescent, feeling a need to rebel, reading his writing seemed to be a manner in which I could stand in opposition to my past experiences on Vulcan.”

She nods, uncertain what to say. She wants him to keep talking.

His eyes flash at her, “My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the most I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

A passage about love, she thinks idly. A strange sensation tickles her chest but she loudly and thoroughly clears her throat. “Hm,” she mumbles, “That’s beautiful.”

She wishes he were simply reading to her, not as an exchange of ideas but as a confession. 

Nyota feels a sharp pain in her chest. This is much worse than lust. A thought occurs to her which she acknowledges and then quickly pushes away. She does that a lot these days, she thinks. It’s becoming exhausting.

“Indeed,” Spock says, his expression unreadable.

Now she is staring so she points to a feature on his PADD, “You can choose from a variety of narrators and languages. If I may, the Klingon version of Henry V is excellent. Their words truly capture the theme of that play.”

Spock nods, toying with the feature. He turns to a version of Orion and a random passage is played to exemplify the selected mode. 

The narrator is exceptionally sensual in their rendition of Othello. The passage is innocent enough but the tone used is unbridled and passionate like a person speaking to their lover in a moment of ecstasy. Normally Nyota would appreciate the ability to interject emotionality into a rather humdrum discussion. 

Not in that moment, however. Nyota clears her throat again and asks, her voice much louder than necessary to drown out the rendition, “I never understood that part. What is ‘the beast with two backs’?”

“It is a euphemism for sexual intercourse,” Spock replies without pause.

“Well,” Nyota says, mentally plotting her escape from the planet and possibly the solar system, “That explains why my seventh grade teacher had nothing to say when I asked her that question all those years ago.”

Spock looks at her, his expression neutral, “Will you be spending the afternoon in the library?”

“Yes. Why?”

He shakes his head, his face soft and relaxed, “It is a matter of no consequence. I wish you a productive work session.”

.  
.  
.

The next day she works for eleven hours straight, polishing her abstract and completing over 27 pages of actual writing. She is ready for more when she receives a visitor. 

“I believe humans require regular sustenance.” Spock speaks in such a way that she can’t help but feel as if he’s teasing her. She makes a point to memorize the slight curve of his lips and the subtle change in his tone, to recognize the expressions for future recognition. 

To her surprise, he sits down with her. 

The food which he brought is excellent, more spicy than anything Amanda would make. He made dinner for her, she thinks with a start. She becomes keenly aware of his rigid posture and the silence between them.

She politely asks him to pass her spiced rice. Please. He politely passes the container to her. Thank you. You are welcome. More silence. Would you like more roasted vegetables? I appreciate it. Nyota begins debating between continuing as they are or stuffing the rest of the meal in her mouth and then exclaiming she really should get back to work.

She curses herself. One day she will face Klingon warbirds and the Orion syndicate and experience all manner of things she can’t even describe now. She should not be so unnerved by all of this.

“What was your thesis on?” Nyota asks, her voice admirably even. 

“Luminescence nanothermometry. It was my hope that my work would have implications for warp cores.”

She knows little on the topic so she can only say, “Sounds impressive.”

“Preparing the paper was rigorous but rewarding.”

She nods, laughs, “It’s just rigorous for me right now.”

“It will come to be rewarding.”

“I hope so,” Nyota says. He takes another bite and she can feel more silence coming on. As a preemptive measure, she asks, “Have you read any good books lately?”

The question is so dumb she finds herself mumbling half of it. Spock leans forward, “I did not hear your question in full?”

She puts a piece of naan in her mouth just to give herself time to think. She asks the question every cadet and officer is forced to answer dozens upon dozens of times in their careers, “I just wanted to know why you made the choice to join Starfleet?”

It’s barely better but he says, “I wished to study science.”

“We do science in Starfleet pretty well,” Nyota says, “I’m surprised you didn’t apply to the Vulcan Science Academy. I’m sure your mother would have preferred that.” 

“I did submit an application to the Vulcan Science Academy. I was accepted but declined admission.”

“Oh?” Nyota says. She waits for more but when he doesn’t give, she feels compelled to ask, “So you choose Starfleet?” 

He chews slowly before answering, “I have come to have a specific identity here on Vulcan. I wished to create a new persona, one which I could influence myself.”

Nyota sees a sudden, deep sadness in his eyes. She knows what he is talking about even if he doesn’t say so. She has seen how few friends Amanda has and the glances the family gets no matter where they go. She can’t help but says, “You wanted to create a place for yourself.”

She thinks back to the Academy. She had seen her classmates make fun of him behind his back and stare at him as he passed. That was better? Did he even know how he deserved to be treated?

Then, as soon as his other side was open, it was gone.

“Incorrect. Their program, while not superlative to that which was offered at the Vulcan Science Academy, offered alternative benefits which I found intriguing,” Spock adds, “I do not regret my choice.”

“That’s good,” Nyota says. She has so many questions but he is done talking. 

They finish their meal without conversation after that. 

.  
.  
.

The next day, a digital file containing an album of music is waiting for Nyota on her desk in her bedroom. A gift from Spock. She listens to a few of the songs as she gets ready for the day. 

Before she leaves for the day, she knocks on Spock’s door. Just to say thank you. 

He stands in the doorway, giving her a glimpse into his pristine room. Deep green fabrics and dark woods make up the majority of the decorations. A dozen theories about these design choices pop into her mind but she pushes them away. 

“I really like Mongolian throat singing. It takes enormous skill and I find the deep notes most satisfying. I will enjoy having it in the background while I work,” Nyota says.

“I enjoy it as well. My mother told me you favored it,” Spock says. 

“You talk about me with your mother a lot, huh? Maybe that alone will convince Julia we’re in love,” Nyota jokes. 

He doesn’t answer, nor does he look away. He looks right at her. “You are an interesting subject.”

“I try,” she says. He is still looking at her so she gestures vaguely towards the entryway, “I should go.”

He nods, bids her farewell. 

She leaves, glancing back once to see her is still watching her. When she sees him looking, they both avert their gazes. 

.  
.  
.

The next morning, Nyota takes every precaution she can. She can afford no more distractions. She wakes up before dawn, packs enough food for the day, stakes out a spot in a private study room and sets to work. 

Naturally, Spock visits her after only three hours of work. In spite of everything, Nyota can’t help but feel a rush of excitement at seeing him. “What do I owe this visit to?”

“My mother informed me humans require regular social interaction for optimal mental functioning,” Spock says. 

Nyota stands, stretching, her hand brushing against his shoulder as she does, “ Didn’t your mother go to a conference on Mars today? She sent me a message when she left last night.”

He opens his mouth and then closes it, “Indeed.”

“You wanted to spend time with me,” Nyota says, grinning. He doesn’t deny it and her heart skips a beat. “I guess I would take a break.”

“I would find that agreeable.”

He is close to her, so close she can see that his eyes are not merely brown. There are flecks of dark green and gold around his pupils. His eyelashes are enviable, long and thick. 

“Huh,” Nyota says. She yawns, closing her eyes. She opens and closes her eyes, noticing that he seems to come closer to her as the moments pass.

“Do you find my features visually pleasing?” Spock asks, standing so close she can feel his warmth.

“What?” Nyota asks. She flexes her hands, trying to supress the urge to touch him. 

“You have been examining my face closely for approximately 10.5 seconds. I have also seen you do such on multiple previous occasions.”

“There are many reasons an individual might be doing so,” Nyota tries to keep her voice neutral but her body stirs. 

He leans over, so casually she does not expect him to kiss her. His lips are only on hers for a moment. When he pulls away, it is impossible to resist the urge to take more.

So she doesn’t resist. She throws her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheeks, neck, and mouth and she can’t help but groan at the sensation. She pulls at him until they bump into the table. He lifts her onto the table, pushing her dress up and touching her, much to Nyota’s delight. 

He presses into her, the edge of the table painful on her leg. It is just uncomfortable enough that she becomes aware of what they are doing and why they shouldn’t be doing it. 

“Stop,” Nyota says. 

He pulls away, his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes ask a question, Nyota cannot bring herself to answer. 

She could say something, she thinks furiously. She needs to be working now. It’s not appropriate to mess around in the library like that. She doesn’t want him like that. She’s never been a liar though and she doesn’t start then. Instead, a painful silence fills the room.

He straightens his clothing, avoiding her eyes as he leaves without a word. 

She adjusts her skirt and stares at the door for far too long.  
.  
.  
.

There is a package waiting for her on her desk later that night, a gift from Amanda. Inside are the most beautiful purple robes Nyota had ever seen. So nice, in fact, that Nyota doesn’t feel right accepting the gift until she reads the note which accompanies the present. 

In short, there will be a huge gala at the embassy and the Ambassador to Earth must attend with his family. 

His whole family. 

It could be fun, Nyota thinks until she steps out into the hall and glances into the open door to Julia’s room. 

Julia is standing before a mirror, holding a set of robes which are similar to Nyota’s. When she sees Nyota watching, Julia grins and shows Nyota the gown. “Aren’t they beautiful? Amanda invited me to a party at the embassy.”

“They are really your color,” Nyota says. She can barely speak. 

Then Julia has to outdo herself by adding, “Maybe you can announce your engagement to Vulcan high society?”

“You have such good ideas, Julia,” Nyota says, grinding her teeth so hard she is certain her headache will never go away.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER Three

Starfleet Academy regularly held cultural classes to train students in proper ethics and mannerisms to display when dealing with alien species. Cadets were taught the minutiae of the hundreds of different interactions which could occur with a wide variety of off-planet beings. 

Yet, somehow, none of those classes discussed how to dress oneself in the garb of any of said alien species. 

Which was a problem, because, as Nyota quickly found out, Vulcan robes, while beautiful and made of a luxuriously soft and thick cloth, were nearly impossible to don, without some special training. 

The fabric is soft, cut in a rounded manner, that makes folding nearly impossible, if that is even what she is supposed to be doing. Then there are ties and hooks, which don’t seem to line up at all. And she can’t be sure if the robe is worn alone or if she is supposed to have specific clothing underneath.

On top of everything, she can’t stop thinking about rather unfortunate things. 

Why had Spock come to see her in the library and started all that? Nyota thinks as she tries to tuck one edge of the robe under another. Why did she hate herself for stopping him? 

Why couldn’t he keep his damn hands to himself? Why is she mad? Why did this have to get so complicated? The hem of the robes have somehow knotted into themselves and she curses in five different languages.

Her mother had always told her the worst questions began with the word why. They were always the hardest to answer. 

This wasn’t a why question either. It was really an inquiry which begged for a yes or no. There was no middle ground. She didn’t really want to think about that either.

The robe was starting to wrinkle from her efforts. Nyota throws open the door, ready to go and find Amanda. 

Naturally, Spock is standing just outside her room, putting away laundry in a linen closet nearby. He meets her gaze, nonplussed. It probably takes him five minutes to get ready, Nyota thought, jealous.

Nyota bits her tongue, irritated by his calm demeanor which stands in such contrast to her own mess of emotions.Then, because she knows she can be as good as him, if not better, she holds up the robes and asks, “Can you help me with this?”

He nods. She goes to stand in front of the mirror, steeling herself.

Behind her, she can see him lying the robes out on the bed. He runs his hands across the cloth, smoothing out the creases. His fingers are long and deft, his palms gentle as they flatten the fabric. He faces her and she catches the look in his eyes. He gives away more than he thinks he does as she is coming to realize. She looks away, forcing her face to be neutral.

In a truly masochistic move, she asks, “Am I naked underneath or . . .?”

To her deep satisfaction, Spock takes a deep breath before answering. “What you are wearing is suitable enough.” He must make a mistake in his folding because he makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat before undoing his work to begin again.

He is undone too. She ponders the idea for a bit before coming to a conclusion: Good.

Spock comes to wrap the robes around her shoulders and in spite of her best efforts, she finds herself tensing at his touch. His lovely hands, which she can’t seem to take her eyes off, run over her body as he fixes the clasps which had eluded her. His touch is brief and unfeeling and yet she allows herself lean ever so slightly into his hands. Watching him out of the corner of her eye in the mirror, she sees that no matter their contact, his expression is unchanged.

She is irked, by many  _ many _ things now.

“How am I to behave at this event?” Nyota asks. His casual touch and standoffishness is doing things to her that she does not care for. She doesn’t even know she means by the question. It’s a challenge. That much she can garner.

“Preferably in a manner opposite to that which you have been indulging in recently,” Spock replies.

“What does that mean?” Nyota mutters over her shoulder.

“I do believe you understand my preferences,” Spock ties a sash across her waist with a snap. It is not overly tight and yet the act knocks the air out of her lungs.

His brows furrowed as he worked. His expression is enraging to Nyota and she can’t help but glare. Only, it’s not really a glare on her face but a more sad mien. Spock reaches around her to tighten the front of her outfit, catching a glimpse of her expression. He tilts his head.

Perhaps a gesture? Nyota manges to sputter, “I just -”

“I am finished,” Spock says before she can say more. 

Nyota moves, admiring how well the garment fits her. She looks at Spock only to find he is watching her with an obvious heat in his eyes. 

“We will be leaving shortly,” Spock says. He exits her room before she can respond. 

A moment after he is gone, Julia appears, a set of green robes wrapped around her shoulders. 

“Am I wearing this right?” Should I ask your - ” she stops and clears her throat before saying in a questioning tone, “fiancee’s mother?”

Five minutes ago, Spock had his hands all over me, Nyota thinks. This time, however, bitter guilt fills her throat. Grateful for the distraction, she gestures for Julia to enter the room. 

.

.

.

“Ko-fu,” Sarek says as they approach the Vulcan embassy. He glances over his shoulder and with a start, Nyota realizes he’s talking to her.

Daughter. He’s calling her daughter.

Fuck.

Nyota, who had been trailing behind their party from a safe distance, skirts around Julia who had been walking in between herself and Spock’s parents. When she is at his side, Sarek leans towards her as he says, “I am told such events can be overwhelming. You may enter by my side if you wish. I do not find the attention of many to be unnerving.”

From her husband’s right, Amanda smiles as her. Nyota smiles back and quietly thanks Sarek. Spock, who is a few paces ahead of them, does not turn.

Sarek’s eyes follow Nyota’s as she watches Spock, “I offer as it does not seem my own son has the decorum to be of such assistance.”

Spock glances at them but otherwise ignores his father’s obvious attempt at commentary. 

“What is the character flaw you would describe this as?” Sarek asks Amanda. She waves a hand, clearly not wanting to participate in this conversation. Sarek nods and then says in a low voice to Nyota, “Ah. He is stubborn.”

Amanda shakes her head but she also can’t help but comment, in a light and teasing tone, “I wonder where he gets that from.”

Sarek’s expression changes so minutely, Nyota almost misses it. The older Vulcan’s eyes crinkle at their outermost corners and there is a looseness to his cheeks. His son smiles like his father, Nyota thinks.

The gala has already begun by the time they arrive. It is abuzz with dozens upon dozens of ambassadors and their families, more alien species in one massive hall than Nyota has ever experienced before. She takes in every language spoken, some she is familiar with and others she has never heard before, admiring the unique beauty of it all.

Sarek excuses himself. Amanda moves to stand closer to Nyota, who is immersed in listening to two short, stout purple humanoids converse in a dialect that sounds almost like Romulan with an Orion accent. Amanda chuckles as she has to grab Nyota’s hand to prevent her from running into a group of Andorians.

“I knew you would enjoy this,” Amanda says. She wraps an arm around Nyota. “One day, very soon, this will be your world. You’ll be an explorer, a voice, and a bridge.”

The thought makes Nyota forget all about her unwritten paper, all the stress of the Academy, and the seemingly unending barriers that stood between her and what she had always wanted, “Not soon enough.”

Amanda throws her head back and laughs. Nyota feels a spark of affection for her. She tries to respect what the Vulcans are and value. Still when her foster mother’s arm is around her waist and with the other woman’s laughing so unabashed - the very humanness of it all is so very nice. 

“The becoming can be the worst,” Amanda says, squeezing Nyota, “It’s never soon enough until it is. Now come, we’re being summoned.”

Sarek is surrounded on all sides by other Vulcan ambassadors. As Amanda and Nyota approach, they hear him discussing a tariff agreement, “- we must not allow these negotiations to become stagnant. Relations could easily return to their previous terse state.”

As if feeling their presence, Sarek acknowledges his wife and Nyota.

“I concur. However, we must navigate the discussion carefully. The government is very concerned with the pandemic of - ” The ambassador has seen that Sarek’s attention is lost. The older Vulcan looks and asks, “Sarek? Is this your new daughter?”

Don’t do it, Nyota prays, knowing it is futile. She sees the look in Sarek’s eyes. Don’t do it. PLEASEDON’T.

“Indeed. This is Nyota Uhura. She is a cadet at the Academy, studying xenolinguistics. First in her class with the highest grade point average in over 50 years of the Academy. She is also a talented vocalist. 

He goes on, detailing points of her CV that Nyota had forgotten.

“What is he doing? Nyota whispers to Amanda.

“Isn’t it obvious?”Amanda whispers back, smiling, “Bragging.” 

“Why? Who is this Vulcan he’s talking to?”

“No one special. But you’re exceptional. He just wants everyone to know.”

“I wish he would stop.”

Amanda touches her hand, “There’s no need to be ashamed - ”

Nyota responds by pulling away and turning to look at anything but Sarek and his proud eyes. She doesn’t deserve this, any of this. Neither does Sarek, if he knew the truth.

She begins to leave and Amanda follows her, saying something that Nyota cannot hear over the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

Sarek sees them leaving and excuses himself. He allows Amanda to take his arm and she loops her arm around Nyota’s waist again, guiding their trio away from their previous interaction. 

“Are you well, Ko-fu?” Sarek asks, “Your pallor and dyspnea indicate illness.”

“I’m fine,” Nyota manages. She takes a deep breath and forces a smile for him. He does not appear to be convinced by her attempt.

Amanda, to Nyota’s horror, tells him, “Sarek, you embarrassed Nyota. Can’t you tell?”

“I apologize,” Sarek says and Nyota quickly nods, silently accepting his apology. He doesn’t stop though, “I do not understand when I demonstrated inappropriate etiquette this evening. For my own knowledge, could you please elaborate on how I caused discomfort?”

“The bragging, dear,” Amanda says.

“Bragging? I was merely sharing Nyota’s considerable accomplishments for the purposes of demonstrating my son’s exceptional discretion.”

“That’s bragging, beloved,” Amanda laughs, “You just described bragging.”

“By whose definition?”

“Any loose one, really.”

Sarek juts his chin forward, his eyes narrow. Disdain, an expression of which is so obvious that Nyota nearly chortles at it. He says, and Nyota can practically hear him huffing, “Vulcans acknowledge extraordinary behavior. It is beneficial to society to be aware of what any individual can contribute.”

Amanda nods, her sass thinly veiled, “Of course, sweetheart.”

Sarek looks sharply at her then he turns to hide the same smile Nyota had noticed earlier, “My apologies, Nyota. I thought my behavior was acceptable. My intentions were not to cause emotional discord.” 

“I know,” Nyota says, beaming back at him, this time in earnest. 

“Despite my involvement in raising Michael and Spock, my experience in interacting with human and hybrid children has been less than ideal. It is my aspiration for us to be familiar,” Sarek sees her face and misinterprets her expression, “By this, I intend to say I wish for us to be close.”

Well. If she didn’t feel bad before.

There is more though. She would want in-laws like this, if she were truly engaged. She would want to join this family. 

Nyota sees Spock lingering on the periphery of the event. He sees her looking and ducks onto a balcony. 

Amanda sees Nyota’s eyes going towards the balcony after Spock. She smiles when she thinks Nyota can’t see and takes Sarek by the arm, “Darling, why don’t we go and mingle.”

She really shouldn’t and yet - 

It might be nice to have some fresh air. It might be nice to get away from all the eyes she swears are looking at her. It might be nice to talk.

Spock stands by the edge of the balcony, his eyes towards the stars. Nyota pauses, allowing herself to see him. He is beautiful, especially in the starlight and she sighs. He tenses as she approaches, as if he knows it is her without even turning.

“Hi,” Nyota says. Really? She speaks how many languages and knows how many forms of communication and yet that is all she can sputter out?

He is quiet, the recognizable intensity in his eyes, apparent again. She knows what she is seeing but fears trying to name it, as if acknowledging it would change it or worse, make it disappear. 

Nyota throws up her arms, exasperated with herself and with him, “What is it?” 

Say what you want to say, she wants to tell him but doesn’t. She can’t fault him for not doing something she refuses to do either.

His eyes cross over her form before he sharply faces away from her.

“You like it, don’t you?” He looks at her again and Nyota twirls, the robe moving with her. It really is a gorgeous garment. He appears to notice as well. She smiles, taking in his own dark blue robes, the pretty bronze design on it. Rhyly, she adds, “You don’t look so bad yourself, you know.”

He winces -  _ winces _ and positions himself more away from her. 

She is angry again. Mostly with herself. Why is she here? What does she hope to achieve?

But she’s annoyed by him too and she can’t stop herself from saying, “What? You’re not going to talk to me?”

With his back to her, he finally speaks, “I have nothing to say.”

Nyota is louder than she wants to be when she retorts, “And why is that?”

Spock still wouldn’t look at her, “I believe you know.”

She is to blame for their current predicament, that much she can’t and wouldn’t deny but for him to act so holier-than-thou is excessive.

Nyota rushes to his side, standing so close he can’t ignore her, even if he wants to. “What? What do I know? Tell me.”

Again he is silent and this time she can’t handle it.

“That night? After your mother put us on that blind date with each other? What was it you said? Only after some very heavy petting that only stopped because your parents came home, I might add?” 

She waits but again, no response. She is being much too loud and it is only a matter of time before someone hears them but she can’t help herself. He is so frustrating.

“You said we would be incompatible. Yet what do you do? You offered to be my fake fiancee? You came to see me in the library and kissed me? Remember that?” 

Finally, he looks at her, anger and lust and something - perhaps sadness but why? - evident in his expression. Another pause fails to elicit any sort of answer from him. 

Nyota touches his arm. He looks at her hand and then at her. Now she knows it is indeed misery in his eyes. She sees it and she can’t look away. Quietly, as if it will soften the question, she asks, “What do you want? Tell me. What do you need?”

He is finally meeting her gaze and when he reaches to touch her hand, where it still holds him, Nyota swears her heart sings.

“Please,” she says, a reluctant smile coming to her mouth, “Tell me.”

Spock pushes her hand away, “I wish to see you become an officer in Starfleet, on the Enterprise if that is what you wish. I wish to see you attain the rank of one of the best in your field. I wish to see you flourish in your career.”

She waits for more but there is none. She knows there can’t be. Still, she asks, “And?”

This time, he is succinct. “That is all.”

And it should be. Yet, therein was the problem. She had wanted the same thing and for so long, it had been her single-minded focus. So much so that she had failed to recognize a new fact, a new yearning. She wanted something different.

Nyota doesn’t say so though. The evening with her foster family had shown her something. It was something she could not have, at least not here. “Then I wish you the same.”

She storms away. She must remember why she came here. Her focus is set and she does not stray from her goal now. There is nothing to distract her, not a hall full of linguistics to admire, not a frustrating sensation of longing, and most definitely not a confusing Vulcan hybrid.

Nyota moves through the crowd towards her foster mother. Amanda sees the look in her eyes and guides her to the edge of the crowd, away from prying ears. 

“Can I excuse myself early?” Nyota asks, her voice admirably even and her face untouched by any unfortunate emotions.

Always a saint, Amanda immediately nods, “Yes. I’ll arrange a ride for you to go home.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Nyota can still see the balcony. Spock is watching her with that strange heaviness in his eyes. This time, she leaves him.

.

.

.

Nyota goes home and goes straight to her PADD. Within three hours, she had eight pages of her paper done and she doesn’t stop there. She pulls out all of the long and arduous texts that she had been avoiding and devors them. It is wonderfully complicated to summarize and apply almost 75 papers into a succinct brief but she does it without any extraneous thought. 

Everyone else comes back a few hours later. The minute she hears the front door open, Nyota gets up and switches off the light in her room. She hears Amanda’s light trend outside but the woman leaves without knocking.

The others get ready for bed and soon the house goes quiet. Another, heavier trend stops outside her room and she swears she hears a soft knock but Nyota forces herself to put her full attention on a paragraph about Orion syntax and whatever (or more likely, whomever) goes back off into the night.

A message from her advisor pops up near dawn. Dr. Lucas is a brilliant and sweet woman, who praises her recent submissions but offers additions, which to Nyota’s delight, will require many hours of research and rewriting. 

And Nyota doesn’t miss the end of the message.

_ They will be handing down assignments for junior officers in the upcoming weeks. It would be very beneficial if this thesis was completed and on file for review. They wouldn’t look favorably on students at risk of delayed graduation. _

In short, as is obvious if one really reads her message, Dr. Lucas is saying she needs Nyota to hurry up. 

Which is true, she has two weeks to write over fifty pages. That’s a lot for anyone. Her advisor is just making that all the more clear.

Well shit.


	4. Chapter 4

There is a slight chance she is losing her mind. Being stretched too thin will do that to you. At least that is what Nyota tells herself when she wakes up and swears she sees equations written on her walls. 

She blinks and they are gone. 

Nyota has been on fire since that night at the embassy. She works for six hour intervals and sleeps for two, stopping only when hunger or other needs demand it. And it is working. She has only fifteen more pages to write. In her infinite wisdom though, she went out of order. What she has left is the conclusion and what her own findings have been based on the data she had. 

She thought the summary of current research would be the worst part. She was wrong. 

The last twelve hours have been writing, deleting, and repeating. In the past day, she had written barely three paragraphs. 

It doesn’t need to be perfect. It really doesn’t. Yet she can’t help but think of the years she put into this and how she wants nothing less than the best for it. It’s her baby. So she keeps writing. Then deleting. And so on and so forth until she’s here. Possibly hallucinating.

Nyota turns to lay on her other side, the new position even more comfortable than the last. She takes stock. She is not sleepy. She showered this morning - or maybe yesterday? What she does need though, as it becomes very evident, is some food.

It is too hot to wear clothes while she sleeps and she stops to grab her day wear, which have been the same for two or maybe five days if she’s being honest, off the chair where she left them. She dresses herself, smooths her hair down or at least out of her eyes, and slips into the hallway. Mercifully, it is quiet. She can just slip into the pantry and be back in her room for more thesesing - no, that’s not a word is it? 

Yeah, no. She is losing it. Into the kitchen and then right out. No one needs to see her like this.

The house is empty. Or so she thinks until she stumbles into the kitchen where Spock is making tea while Amanda sits at the table, chatting brightly as she paints Terran flora with water colors.

Nyota pauses in the doorway, either too confused by their presence or maybe even completely having lost her ability to socialize. Or perhaps just taking in the scene before her. 

Amanda laughs at something. Nyota swears Spock is smiling if not beaming with his eyes as he mixes dried leaves into simmering water, the steam curving around his features. He mixes a spoonful of cream, then another spoonful of milk, and finally a single sugar cube into a cup which he places next to his mother. Amanda thanks him, touching his forearm before she stirs the brew, admiring the way the tea and the accoutrements mix together.

It is a scene worth appreciating. 

“Hello dear,” Amanda says, grinning at Nyota when she finally sees the younger woman watching, “How goes the writing?”

Her mouth seems to have malfunctioned because Nyota simply nods. 

This will all be over soon. She will be published and then they can never speak of this again. They told her it would be hard. Nyota ignores Spock as she ducks into the cabinet, grabbing a bag of one of her snacks.

Hoping to cover her faux pas, Nyota touches Amanda’s shoulder as she passes, admiring the different leaf designs her foster mother had created.

The tip of Amanda’s tongue peaks out of the side of her mouth as she finishes the delicate design of a blossoming bud. It is beautiful but her foster mother shakes her head, “See this? I ruined the edge. If only . . .” Amanda sighs.

Nyota fusses for a moment, raving about how lovely and long the stems of this painting are and how intricate and beautiful that one came out. Amanda starts to smile, ruefully. 

Out of the corner of her eye, as she leans to point out another feature she enjoys, Nyota watches Spock. He has poured himself a cup of tea as well and is rinsing out the kettle. The light from the window by the sink highlights the curve of his cheeks, the length of his eyelashes, the softness of his lips. 

“They’re perfectly imperfect,” Nyota says, “The flaws make them interesting.”

Amanda squeezes Nyota’s hand, “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Nyota says, still ogling Spock. He is finished cleaning and she stares as he purses his lips to blow on the steam rising from the still hot tea. After taking a long sip, he comes to sit next to his mother and finally sees his observer.

Nyota becomes very interested in the brand of watercolors Amanda is using. 

“I have another brush, if you’d like to join,” Amanda says.

There is nothing Nyota wants more, to sit here and enjoy life for a few moments, and as she realizes that, she swears something has her heart in a vice.

Numbly, Nyota waves a hand, “I really need to get back to work.”

.

.

.

For reasons, she can’t - or more likely wouldn’t - begin to fathom, Nyota begins placing another chair across from her in the library as she works. It is a nice piece, with a soft seat and a firm back. Sometimes she even leaves it and sits in another, more uncomfortable chair until aches force her to switch over. It’s almost as if she’s saving the nicer seat for a guest.

And she is, inexplicably. 

If that isn’t dangerous enough, she finds herself mentioning to Amanda how she forgets to eat sometimes while spending hours on end in the library. Or how cold and isolated the studying rooms can be.

Her foster mother tsks but Nyota still finds herself alone as she writes. 

It is good. There is nothing to distract her from her work and the pages begin to pour out of her taking with it all of her energy and effort. 

She has never slept so deeply and yet for so little in her entire life. She never seems to be hungry. Every day, she opens her messages to find either more criticism from her advisor Dr. Lucas or complaints from her family and friends that they haven’t heard a word from her. 

Nyota takes Dr. Lucas’ feedback into consideration and tries, sometimes even successfully, not to be stung by how little praise there is in her advisor’s words.

But there’s no way to convey what a mess she has become that wouldn’t trouble her friends or her family so she sends generic messages, about how busy she is, how close she is to finishing, how ready she is to be done and home.

Most of it is half the truth, not that she will admit so.

.

.

.

The oatmeal is searing. Nyota feels burns forming on her tongue but forces herself to eat another spoonful. She is too hungry to not take a meal when it is offered to her. Even more important, it would be rude to refuse, especially when it seems Sarek went out of his way to make something nice for her.

“Is it acceptable?” Sarek asks, his eyes examining her every expression with the same intensity she has often seen on his son’s face. 

It is an amusing thought. The whole situation is interesting. Sarek had stopped her in the hall as she was trying to sneak out of the house. It was not even dawn but he had still set the table in full dressage with an array of utensils and three different napkins and even a few additional place settings with no identifiable purpose besides decor. 

She puts another large spoonful of her breakfast into her mouth, so she can cover her face with a napkin and hide the grin which appears against her will. Nyota nods.

It is an exceptional offering. Sarek had added sauteed vegetables and spices to the oatmeal and then gone so far as to make her fresh mango juice too. An unorthodox meal but a delicious one nonetheless. Nyota wanted to savor it but she had a virtual meeting in a few moments and then, hopefully, the mixture of guilt and panic which Dr. Lucas would definitely instill in her, would lead to a burst of productivity. 

“What are your plans when you return to the Academy?” Sarek says. His words come out quickly and while they are still spoken eloquently, Nyota can’t shake the feeling that they were blurted out, if her elegant foster father is even capable of that.

“Exams,” Nyota says, “I had to postpone two.”

The very thought of tests after this paper nearly makes her faint but she makes herself smile. If the expression looks anything like it feels, it must be very awkward. Sarek’s eyes look at her mouth and Nyota eats a fourth of her breakfast in her next spoonful. It is painfully scalding going down her throat but it is not as bad at the current situation.

And then, Sarek has to go and say, “And following that?”

Nyota is not sure how to answer. Right now, all she really wants is a long, uninterrupt, deep sleep and maybe some fried donuts from that shop in San Francisco but as for reasonable goals, she is not sure. Next, when she gets back to the Academy, there will be exams. There’s no questioning that. That is as inevitable as death or taxes.

Then graduation and, hopefully, the Enterprise will beg her to join their ranks. 

If not, and she should even be thinking about this because it absolutely will not happen but as a hypothetical, another ship will want her. 

Or even another year of research to make her resume look better, as horrifying as that idea currently sounds. 

Before she can begin to form an answer, Sarek speaks, “I have been told that the Enterprise has tentative plans for a mission in early Spring, April if sources are to be believed.” 

“This Spring?” Nyota squeaks, “That certainly is sooner than I thought.”

The roster isn’t full. There are still spots open. Everyone who is selected should be hearing within weeks. Nyota begins to panic, mentally calculating the days, hours, minutes she has left to get it together. 

It is, in short, going to be quite a task.

“Indeed,” Sarek says. He is studying her face again, “Arrangements could be made. I would spare no sum.”

Nyota quirks an eyebrow. What does he mean by that? “I’m not sure I understand. Are you saying you would - ”

Then it hits her. He’s not offering to bribe anyone or pull strings for her. He’s asking her to begin planning her wedding to Spock. Nyota finishes her breakfast in seconds, scrapping the last bits off the bottom of the bowl because it really is fantastic, and making an excuse about errands or something as unbelievable. 

Sarek stands with her, trying to take the dishes from her hands, “I understand it is a Terran preference for nuptials to be held in the Summer, due to the preferable weather and propensity for extraneous time free from other obligations. Would you be amiable to forgoing this auspicious time, if it can even be called such?”

“I’m not sure,” Nyota says, “We were thinking it might be a longer engagement.”

Very long. Perhaps even lasting until the end of time.

Nyota reitnerates her need to get back to work and Sarek follows her into the hall. He is doing something strange with his hands, fisting and unfisting them, and even though it is very fascinating, Nyota tries to ignore it.

“We have not discussed the matter thoroughly. Perhaps you consider it more of a formality than a romantic gesture. I respect however you may view nuptials,” Sarek hands Nyota her bag, which forces her to see he is flexing his hands, more quickly now. He pauses for a bit too long and she realizes he must be nervous as he prepares to say, “However, I would like to be in attendance when you wed my son. I merely inquire as I would need time to arrange my schedule.”

Well, if she didn’t feel terrible before, this did it.

There is a sudden tension around Sarek’s mouth and he adds, “I apologize for forcing my agenda on you - ”

Now, she doesn’t just want to get out of this experience. She absolutely must escape or for her own sanity or she will be forced to confess to everything.

Like an angel descending from the heavens, Amanda appears on the stairs, a smile on her face that fades the moment she takes in the expression of her husband and Nyota. 

“Good morning,” she says, her tone questioning even as her smile remains unchanged. Sarek is examining the ground and Amanda makes a face, “Darling, you didn’t! I told you to leave them alone. They’re very busy right now.”

Sarek’s hands are worrying again and Amanda waves Nyota off as she guides her husband back into the kitchen, chastising him gently about how he should treat their children as the adults they are. She has somehow managed to turn the topic to an instance involving Michael by the time they are out of earshot. Finally able to breath again, Nyota hurries away.

She receives a message from Sarek as she is walking into the library, asking that she only consider his offer. It takes nearly four hours for her to get over her own guilt and get to work. It is laughable but true: it might have been easier to write her paper back on Earth.

.

.

.

Nyota hangs her head. She would like to pound her fist into the table or scream but the facts would still remain. She has done two pages in five days. Why is she a perfectionist?

She hears a notification that she's received another encrypted message. Gaila had hacked into the Starfleet’s personnel record a few weeks prior. Very much against Nyota’s will, she had been watching the roster for the Enterprise and had been keeping her friend updated. 

As much as she didn’t want to see, and even after asking Gaila a hundred times to please stop, Nyota couldn’t help but look at each new person added to the crew.

Dr. Asif Hasankani, a pioneering programmer on the universal translator. Commander Bria Washington, a master diplomat who had written multiple textbooks on the topic of interspecies relations, most of which were required reading at the Academy. Dr. Luna Fuentes, the former head of the Academy’s linguistics department, the scientist at the forefront of geolinguistics, the same woman who had discovered that the Planet Sierra X - the planet itself - communicated via a series of earthquakes and other geological phenomena.

It would be an honor to work amongst them, one she isn’t even sure she deserves. It might not even matter.

There are only eighteen spots left in the communications department. Only twelve are slated to be given to cadets. There are lists of final candidates in the drive. Nyota is only thirtieth of four hundred and seven.

Possible but unlikely. Who would give up their spot? How can she prove she is better than those above her now?

What happened to her? It had been unlikely she would get into the Academy but here she was. It had been unlikely she would be selected for this research post on Vulcan but here she was. It had been unlikely she would ever be more than an academic in Kenya for the rest of her life but here she was. She had never been scared by odds before.

To be fair though, she had never been such a spectacular failure either. The chair across from her, empty and gathering dust, proves that. As does the unfinished paper in front of her.

Nyota shakes her head. She did not come all this way, just to only come this far. She has to believe that.

Years of her child spent in language tutoring, so that by the time she was twelve she spoke more languages than some university professors. Three years of college, while still a teenager, with no summers off, a perfect grade point average, and five internships and two jobs on her CV by the time she graduated. She had been offered a tenure track position along with her acceptance letter into grad school, all of which she had turned down because she had realized Starfleet was what she wanted all along.

Her schedule demands that she continue for at least two more hours but every cell in her body rejects this idea. One night off will not derail her entire process. 

Still, she does the calculations necessary to make up for this shortcoming. She can get something to eat and then sleep for five hours. That will make up for this bit of freedom.

Nyota does edits on the way back to the house. Gaila sends her message as ‘urgent’ and as she is stepping through the front door, Nyota finally opens it just to make the notifications of its arrival stop.

It is a mistake.

There are no longer eighteen spots left in the linguistics department of the Enterprise. There are now four. Nyota scans the additions, most focused on the cadets who got promotions. Jamie Takahashi, a dual command and science track cadet with a stellar record whom every said would be an admiral one day. Neel Patel, a genius with five patents to his name already and the only cadet who had ever worked on the universal translator. Arla, the first Orion to run the long range radar lab as a student and a twice published author on Terran diplomatic relations and how to amend them to abide with the liberal sexual mores of the Orion race.

The door of the house slams shut behind her and Nyota leans back, sinking to the ground. The PADD is heavy in her hands and she puts in on the ground next to her. The house is dark, mercifully so, because in that moment, she can’t stop the tears from slipping down her cheeks.

She is quiet at first but then she is shaking and heaving and suddenly she is sobbing. She had tried to keep it all down for too long. She can’t hide it anymore and a small shred of her is happy not to.

She did not come all this way, just to only come this far. Yet, she might only get to this point.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees movement in the shadow. Spock stands in the doorway to his mother’s office. Nyota does not try to wipe away her tears or hide her red face. She wants him to see her, even now.

He takes a step towards her and for one brief moment, her heart pounding happily in her chest, Nyota thinks he might finally come to her. There are so many things she wants to say to him. 

She wants to apologize for this mess she’s made. She wants to thank him for wanting to help her in spite of everything. 

She wants to rage at how he’s been acting around her. She wants to praise him because she has always admired him and she has never held him in such high regard as she has now. 

She wants to confess that the veneration and little, quiet crush she had once had for him as his teacher’s assistant had become much more.

Then he sighs, turns, and goes back into his mother’s office without even glancing at her again.

Nyota stares after him for too long. Finally, she picks up her things and slinks to her room. She drops her things on her desk and crawls into bed, still dressed.

She came here to write a paper worthy of all her effort. She came here to prove herself as the officer and scientist she knows she is and that everyone else needs to recognize. This is only the beginning of her career, and it will be an excellent career because she has earned nothing less.

She thinks this, over and over until she finally falls asleep, her tears dried and her intent set once again.

They were pretending after all. She should endeavor to remember that too.

.

.

.

“What do you think?” Julia is pacing the length of her bedroom. Nyota glances at her but doesn’t say anything. Seeing that the other girl is not finished reading, Julia waits, chewing on her lip, “You don’t think the intro is too long right? It’s so hard to succinct - ”

“I know,” Nyota says, “Believe me, I know.”

Julia tosses herself onto her bed, shaking her head, “This paper is driving me crazy. I keep thinking there will be this moment when I know it’s fine and it’s ready and then - ”

“There’s something more. There’s always something more,” Nyota says. 

This is really Nyota’s own fault. She had been working at the table in the kitchen, just for a change of scenery and when she had returned from a short break, Nyota had found Julia looking at her paper. Julia had looked overwhelmed. It had made Nyota irrational and she’d felt the urge to show off. 

Julia had given excellent feedback really. She had given Nyota another paper to read that would be a helpful supportive point towards her argument and pointed out places where she should cut or add information. 

But it hadn’t been without a price. She wanted Nyota to give her opinion on her work too.

At least now Nyota could be certain her rival was worthy. Julia’s paper was outstanding. No matter how hard Nyota tried, she couldn’t force her deprived mind to find a single flaw or necessary addition.

Nyota flips through the pages, noting the numbers at the bottom as they rise and rise and rise. One hundred and fifteen. More than enough. Stifling an unfortunate sound which grows in her throat, Nyota asks, “You’re done?” 

Julia actually has the gault to look surprised, “Oh no. I still have the conclusion, which has been real - ” She sees the look Nyota is giving her, at long last. “Well, I’m sure you know.”

Nyota is not done but Julia has the sense to take the PADD back. Not that it should matter, but Gaila had told Nyota that there were only three spots left in the science department of the Enterprise. Julia still hadn’t been offered a place either.

“I should be done by Friday and then I expect to be either drunk, sleeping, or finding whatever kind of partying there is to be had on this galaxy,” Julia says, “Just in case you were wondering.”

“Why would I be wondering about that?” Nyota asks. She doesn’t let herself look upset but she does curse Julia in her head. Who does more than the maximum on a 100 plus paper?

People who want a place amongst the best of the best, Nyota thinks, and suddenly she is desperate to leave this room and get back to writing when Julia says - 

“His parents are going out of town this weekend. Should be a nice time for the two of you to catch up.”

“Uhuh,” Nyota mumbles without thinking. 

“Not trying to be nosey but that’s it isn’t it? That’s why you don’t sleep together? It’s been bugging me this whole time. Amanda wouldn’t care but I assume Sarek has some sort of objection.”

Nyota tries not to look as tired as she feels. That is the last thing she wants to be doing but she still has to keep doing this or everything she has been killing herself over will be lost and that would make a situation she didn’t think could get worse, even more terrible.

“Look, seeing how much you two fight and annoy each other, I have to say, I believe you now,” Julia says, throwing her hands up, “I just wonder, you know, why marry someone you hate if there’s no good? I’d put up with a lot for someone who’s good in bed too. I have friends to make me smile in other ways, you know?”

Nyota does not dignify this line of questioning with a response. “Anyway, good luck with the rest of your paper.”

Julia clucks, “Might be good stress relief for you. Some people find it inspiring.”

Nyota shakes her head. It’s a good thing Julia will be otherwise occupied. Some things are easy to pretend at but that’s a lot to ask from anyone.

.

.

.

It’s become abundantly clear. She’s stalling. 

Why? Who knows? It’s impossible to decide which one or more self-defeating ideas or emotions is driving her to this but here she is. Knocking on Spock’s door with a plate of food.

And he’s not answering. So it’s really becoming difficult to determine what part of this moment is the saddest because there are a lot of contenders fighting for first place. 

Nyota knocks again, balancing Spock’s plate and the plate she’d made for herself on the same arm. She should eat alone but the house is so open and quiet and she’s here, for some inexplicable reason. 

If only Julia were here to see this, her going into Spock’s room. That would make sense. Except Julia isn’t here. The last time Nyota had seen her, Julia had been racing towards the shuttle for a ship destined for a pleasure planet. 

One paper is done and it is not Nyota’s.

Time and a very definite rejection are bringing Nyota to her senses. He’s in his room. The light is on and she can hear him. He must know it’s her.

“Fine,” she mutters. She puts the plate down by his door and turns to leave. 

This is what she gets for making a peace offering. He is such an - Nyota can’t help herself, she flips him off through the door just in time for Spock to step out. 

She hides the gesture quickly but he had to have seen it. She opens and closes her mouth several times before ducking to pick up his plate and finally blurting out, “I thought you might be hungry.”

He raises an eyebrow, “I am but I do not require two servings of food.”

“I was thinking it would be nice to eat together and talk but I guess not,” she snaps, matching the sarcasm in his voice.

He lets her get all the way to the end of the hallway before he calls her name. She takes her time turning to look at him and he sighs, “Please join me.”

Nyota does not hide her smugness. “Of course, I’ll keep you company.”

He sits on his bed, watching her. Not to be one upped, she sits next to him. As she hands him a plate, she swears his fingers touch hers. He exhales loudly and Nyota smirks to herself, unfolding her legs so that her calf touches him as she readjusts. 

“Do you not have adequate space?” Spock looks at where her legs are and then up into her eyes. The old intensity is back. 

“I do,” Nyota should stop but instead she leans towards him, her fingers touching him again as she rests her hand on the bed. She savors how he squirms.

“Of course. Exceptional.” He makes a noise that sounds almost indignant. 

“Is there a problem?” she asks, realizing for the first time that she hadn’t even brought utensils for them. He faces her and she doesn’t hold back as she adds, “Well?”

He takes her plate from her lap and his own and places them on his bedside table. There is a definite challenge in his eyes now. For a moment, neither of them move, each daring the other to back down.

It happens quickly after that. Nyota throws her arms around his neck and pulls him close, holding him tightly but waiting for him to make the next move. He does so but not before examining her face, his eyes reverent to her own surprise. When he leans in to kiss her, his lips do not linger. His mouth moves from hers to press against her jaw and cheeks and neck. 

“Spock”, she says. He leans away. She sees it in his eyes, he thinks she is rejecting him.

"This cannot - " He does not articulate what they both already know.

She simply nods. There are so many things she wants to say but cannot. Instead she kisses him, more intently than before, her hands in his hair, pulling him as close as she can. She can only hope he understands.

She pulls off her own clothes and then his and then there was nothing in the world but his touch and his warm skin and the hum of his fiery affection in her mind. 


	5. Chapter 5

She comes up for air, hours later. They are so close and she is forced to take in every detail of his lovely visage. His long, lush eyelashes, his defined cheeks and jaw so soft and innocent in sleep, his mouth which could say and do such wonderful things.

The haze of lust and frustration is gone in an instant and in its place is a deep emptiness. 

They lie next to each other, shoulder touching. Spock’s bed is almost too small for the both of them. She wonders if it is his childhood bed. 

The thought makes her very aware of everything: how itchy the blanket is on her naked body, how deliciously sore she is, how Spock’s forehead is ever so gently against her shoulder. She is torn between the want stay in that moment forever and the strong, almost overwhelming need to escape.

But escape from what? They are both consenting adults. They seem to like each other and they enjoyed their time together, that much is obvious. They find one another intellectually stimulating while appreciating various character traits that one another has. And they clearly are attracted to one another. 

Nyota knows. She has several bruises on the sides from Spock’s enthusiasm for her, which she wouldn’t even pretend to complain about.

So what is it?

Then it hits her all at once. The best case scenario is they are together but they have to hide it or someone will scream nepotism and even if people don’t hear, they will know. They will wonder what else he has done for her while she was his fellow student, while he was a teacher. Everyone will watch them constantly because not only are their beginnings questionable, they are a novelty, even if she can barely stomach the thought. 

How would they ever have a relationship from that? 

The truth is easy to see but hard to accept.

They couldn’t. 

Why would he do that for her? Let himself become the point of gossip? Have his reputation tarnished? Be stared at for being with her? He wouldn’t want that for himself.

She cannot do that to him.

Spock is still asleep, his breathing deep and even. Nyota’s stomach clenches as she moves away, careful not to shift too quickly and disturb him. Her clothes are tossed around the room. She has her tongue in her cheek as she goes to pick them up, watching him still out of the corner of her eye.

He moves, settling on his stomach, his hands reaching for the warm spot where she had just been.

Just for a moment can't she pretend?

She is not sneaking out. She will put her clothes down and go slip into bed next to him. He will wake up and, she thinks with warmth in her blood, they can have each other again and again - 

Spock opens his eyes. His old intensity, which had morphed beautifully into some more raw and sensual in the night, is heavy in his eyes. 

He looks so innocent, his beautiful eyes still sleepy, his hair messy from her hands, and his face confused. Then moment shifts when his expression changes. He thinks he understands. He thinks she is rejecting him.

Nyota can’t deny that she had wanted to leave without his knowledge but she feels the strong urge to defend herself. Weakly, she murmurs, “I didn’t want to wake you.”

His eyes move to take in her huddled stance to the clothes in her hands and then back to the expression on her face.

No. Apparently they cannot pretend anything.

Spock slowly rises from the bed, reaching for his underwear. Nyota puts on her clothes, much more quickly than she’d like, all the while staring at him. 

The sight of his naked form sends the warmth back into her blood. He had given so much of himself to her last night and now she can see nothing. 

Everything she had seen only hours before is hidden again.

And why shouldn’t it be, she thinks forcefully.

They both speak at the same time. A pause as they both wait for the other to continue. Then they both interrupt one another again.

“Go ahead,” Nyota says, her voice raspy.

“I have errands to attend to,” Spock replies.

Nyota forces herself to smile and nod. Maybe he does have errands. And if nothing else, it might hide just how devastating his statement is to her.

“That was - ” She starts. But what was it? Confusing, given how they had been acting around each other. Complicating, if she were being honest. Incredible, if she were willing to admit such a thing.

Really incredible.

She doesn’t finish and he doesn’t press her to.

They reach for the door, unintentionally together yet again. They bump into one another, her face against his chest and their arms around each other, touching for a brief second before they both pull away. Very quickly, she thinks, like the other person is on fire.

Which is accurate, in many ways, none of which bear going into.

Nyota can’t help but notice how Spock leans away and visibly winces at her, his eyes on the ceiling or some other object that isn’t her.

She grabs the door, this time without his assistance. She mumbles something, which even she does not understand. An apology maybe? An excuse of where she needs to be?

He doesn’t seem to hear either way.

He goes into the wash room and closes the door. It is several minutes before she hears the sound of the shower. She imagines him standing at the door, staring at his feet wondering what just happened.

No one is home still but Nyota rushes to her bedroom. The door catches her as she falls down, her back sliding against the solid wood until she is sitting on the ground. 

For the first time, in a long time, for a rare moment, Nyota has no words.

.

.

.

It takes ten tries for the call to go through. 

The first three don’t go through. She should go and use the long range communication system at the Vulcan Science Academy which is available for public use but she has confined herself to her room to focus on work. 

Or just hide, if she’s being honest. 

She reconfigures. Two more attempts push her to make more adjustments. She doesn’t expect the three more fixes after that to work but she justifies them as experiments and not stalling. 

Then she hangs up once, out of embarrassment. There’s no denying or reframing that. She is just the tiniest bit humiliated by this.

But she can’t focus. It’s been six hours and she hasn’t written a word. This is the release she needs. She needs to confess everything. And there’s only one person who would understand, or if not that, at least not judge too much.

Gaila squints at the corner of the screen where the time is. 1100. She shudders and runs a hand through her wild red hair. 

Nyota grins. Gaila was always nothing if not herself. And Nyota had missed her, “Well. Fancy meeting you here? Come here often?”

“Oh I never come anywhere as often as I’d like,” Gaila whips her hair over her shoulder and returns the grin.

Nyota laughs, and it is earnest and feels incredible. Gaila winks at her. 

“Don’t you have class?”

“I think I have three,” Gaila says, yawning and then pretending to shudder.

The expression is so familiar and from something that happened so recently that Nyota stops. In an instant, all the levity of the moment is gone. Nyota is back in Spock’s room, feeling exposed. 

Gaila notices the shift. Without missing a beat, she gestures to her messy hair. “I just had sex. You look like you did too.”

One has to appreciate her tact. Nyota shakes her head but the instant she looks Gaila in the eye, there is no holding back. She tells her everything: how she was almost deported, how Spock and Amanda helped her, how much of a mess their relationship is, and now - 

“Last night we impulsively slept together,” Nyota says.

“Was he good?” Gaila asks. Nyota looks down, her face burning and Gaila nods sagely, “Really good, huh?”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Nyota says.

“Am I?” Gaila says, “Or do I know what is important.”

“How many classes have you skipped today?”

“You should be asking how many orgasms I had this morning,” Gaila retorts. With no prompting she adds, “It’s the same number actually. Three. Three skipped classes. Three orgasms. What about you?”

Nyota pauses. She admires this about Gaila. The Orion just does what she wants. One can’t always always do that but it must be nice. Nyota has always done what seemed right, what seemed necessary. What must a healthy amount of hedonism feel like?

“That many, huh? And what about him? Let me see him. I bet he’s passed out. They always fall asleep after. They’re like cats, all vigor and then basically comatose. I bet he looks incredible naked.”

“He’s not here,” Nyota admits. She tells Gaila about her morning, trying not to cringe at the fresh memory too much.

“Oh Nyota,” Gaila says, “Want me to tell you how to cum and go? Bang and dash? Is that why you called?”

“No,” Nyota snaps, “I mean - ”

Gailes face freezes and for a moment Nyota thinks the connection has failed. Then her friend begins to chuckle. It takes several minutes of snorting and giggles before Gaila can form a coherent thought, which Nyota finds insulting. “Oh ho. You like him. Nyota has a crush on a teacher. You’re such a nerd.”

“I do not!” Nyota yelps, her voice choosing that exact moment to crack. Mature. Real mature.

Gaila nods her head, “Ok. That was very convincing. Good counter argument. Case closed. I believe you.”

The only thing Nyota can think to say back is the unfortunate, “I can’t like him.”

“Yes you can. I’ve banged a dozen of our professors. Can’t even remember how many fellow students.”

“I don’t want to just. Ugh. I don’t even know what I want.”

“Ah,” Gaila says sagely. 

Nyota opens her mouth to deny it and then closes it. Gaila smiles knowingly.

“People will talk,” Nyota says. In her head it seemed more valid. Saying it aloud it sounds weak.

“Of course. It’s what they do. Then someone else will be found naked with an ensign in a closet and forget about you. Everyone knows you work your ass off. And it’s not against regs since he’s not in charge of you. What’s the problem?”

“It just doesn’t seem right. I’m not supposed to fall in love with the man who faked an engagement to keep me from getting deported.”

“You always want everything to be so perfect. It’s why your paper still isn’t done, isn’t it?”

“No! I - ” Nyota stops herself. The truth stings a bit. “I really screwed myself over here, haven’t I?”

“No. It’s simple,” Gaila says rolling her eyes, that wise smile still annoyingly present on her face, “You just don’t see that. You love him. Shouldn’t he know?”

“You were supposed to talk me out of this.”

“We both knew I wasn’t going to do that. Now seriously. How was he?”

.

.

.

He had been beautiful, unsurprisingly, but the way his body had felt pressed against her, so solid, warm like sand in the desert, and his every muscle tense with need as if any distance between them would ache. . . The details are so vivid in her mind, especially after Gaila’s interrogation.

There is a hot gush of wind as Julia opens every window in the living room. 

“Got a signal?” 

Nyota blinks before looking at her communicator but the message from Starfleet still wouldn’t load, “No.”

His hands had been strong, especially when they had gripped her calves and tossed her legs over his shoulder. Nyota did not like to lose control - ever - but there was something in the unbridled - 

“What is on this damn message?” Julia seethes. She bumps into Nyota as she crawls on top of the couch. 

His eyes. She will remember his eyes for as long as she lives because she had never seen someone speak so thoroughly with - 

Stop, she thinks to herself. Really now.

Nyota rushes into the kitchen. Like a haunting spectre, as if called by her very thoughts, Spock is there.

He turns and stares, almost looking like he can’t or wouldn’t take his eyes off her for a moment. 

“We’re trying to read a message from Starfleet,” Nyota says. She pointed to her PADD as if he wouldn’t understand. Realizing what she is doing, she winces and tries to add, as if it might make things better,“Did you get it?”

This seems to jerk his attention away from her face. “No.” He immediately turns and leaves. Nyota tries and fails at pretending not to care. 

“Nyota!” Julia yells. 

Nyota snaps her attention towards the other girl who shoves her PADD into her face. It’s a roster for the Enterprise, an official document. Before Nyota can even read it, Julia screams, “They accepted both of us.”

Nyota grabs the PADD and scans for her name. There is it. She did it. She’s a communications officer on the Enterprise. 

All the years of hoping and stressing and worrying fade away. 

She did it.

Her paper isn’t even done. But they accepted her. Her future is set and it is what she has always wanted and pained for.

Nyota thinks about her paper. She has six more pages to write. 

All of that for nothing. 

All of it.

Julia dances around and doesn’t notice Nyota excuse herself.

There is a strange mix of emotions tangled within Nyota’s mind. Elation is the strongest but there is more. Relief, which is cold and soothing. Anticipation itches on her skin and she knows she would leave now for a five year mission if she could. Pride because she earned this. And more. The tiniest pang of panic. A bit smug but she tucks that away. 

And then, undeniable, regret but not for this news.

Nyota goes into her room. This time, it only takes her two hours, if that. Before the day is even done, she is finished with her paper. It’s easy now. It is everything she wanted it to be. She even submits it without proof reading it. Her advisor will do that. 

When it is gone, she stares at the blank screen.

She did it. Now what?


	6. Chapter 6

“We have to go,” Julia hissed. She is racing around her room, flinging items into her open suitcase which is already haphazardly overflowing with her things. “How is it I’m going back to Earth with this much more than I came with?”

Nyota pauses just long enough to take in the recently purchased souvenir t-shirts, gaming coins, and one outlandishly large sex toy - “a gag gift,” Julia has said, blushing when Nyota had accidentally seen it - before looking at Julia, “It’s a mystery.”

All Nyota was taking back to Earth was a mountain of emotional baggage, which was much easier to pack. 

It would be months before she saw Spock again. He had another week of vacation which he would probably spend on Vulcan and then she had heard he had a research project waiting for him back at the Academy. Enough to keep him busy. Enough to help them avoid each other.

Good, she thinks, a hard knot in her throat. Exactly what they need.

Nyota throws a heavy book, a volume of ancient Vulcan poetry Amanda had given her as a gift on top of all of her belongings. Something cracks and everything sinks a few inches into the bag but she closes it, perhaps a little too briskly.

“Girls! Are you almost ready?” Amanda calls from somewhere in the house. 

“Come on. We’ll be late,” Nyota says, pulling her luggage off the bed. She nearly topples over at the weight of it. As she moves to adjust, she takes one last look around the room. It is painfully bare and she feels a jolt of sadness, for everything that had happened here, good and bad. She will miss this place.

As Nyota goes into the hallways, she is nearly toppled over when Julia plows by her, two bulging bags in one hand and an armload of unpacked items. She calls over her shoulder, “Let’s go! We’ll miss the shuttle.”

Nyota pauses outside of Spock’s door, pretending she needs to adjust the straps on her satchel. She can hear Spock inside, pacing, as it sounds from his solemn tread padding across the floor. 

Open the door, Nyota thinks. As if hearing her thought, she sees his shadow stop as he ceases his endless march. Nyota’s heart is in her throat. She doesn't know what she will do if he actually does confront her but she wants to find out.

Then his shadow moves and he continues his striding across the room, pausing before he turns to walk back, over and over.

Nyota heaves her bag onto her shoulder, swallowing the dryness in her throat away. His loss, she thinks, ignoring the tightness in her chest.

In the kitchen, Amanda is tearing up. She grabs Nyota’s hands and her grip is iron. “Call me anytime. Or every Friday. At six. Actually do that.”

Sarek chimes in, “If you are amiable.”

“I’ll call,” Nyota says, her own vision becoming blurry. Amanda gives her a bone crushing hug that Nyota does not want to be released from and then Sarek pats her on the shoulder.

(As an aside: with just that, to the surprise of no one involved, they make a tradition. They began to have weekly calls where they caught up. Sarek and Amanda had always wanted another daughter and Nyota adored them so why not?)

The shuttle is waiting for them outside but Amanda still reaches for Nyota a dozen more times for hugs and Nyota does not deny her. Sarek hovers, giving instructions on how to get to the ship that will take them off Vulcan. Nyota and Julia already know, having taken the same route to Vulcan but still listen, both smiling with tongue in cheek. 

Nyota stares at the house until it is out of sight. Sarek stands by as Amanda waves. She watches the window which she knows belongs to Spock and swears she sees a shadow behind the curtain. 

It all feels so incomplete. A hundred paged essay that took weeks to write but hours to finally finish.

She brushes the thought off but the feeling behind it persists, growing worse as the minutes pass. It nags her, impossible to ignore or push through. And when they finally arrive at their destination, it hits her in its entirety. 

The minute they stop, Julia jumps out of the shuttle, pulling their bags out to the curb, fussing with her still unpacked knick knacks for a moment before she realizes Nyota hasn’t gotten out of the car.

Nyota’s hand is clenching her seat belt release, her muscles tense. She is paralyzed. Just get out, she tells herself. Yet, she can’t listen.

“Hey?” Julia says, poking her head in, “What’s up?”

Nyota searches her brain for an excuse, an explanation, anything, and all reason elludes her. Finally, she has no choice but to admit, “I don’t want to do this.”

“Is your belt stuck?” Julia says, reaching to help.

“No,” Nyota says. As if needing to prove it to herself, she presses the release gently and the belt detaches, letting her go.

Julia blows her hair out of her eyes, her hands waving around as she attempts to understand what is happening, “You sick? What is it?”

Nyota just shakes her head.

Wide eyed, Julia lists off, “Are you afraid of space? Are you hungry? Are you having a mental break? What? What is it?”

“Is this all?” Nyota asks. Julia looks completely bewildered but Nyota just adds, “We do so much that matters and yet don’t we matter?”

“I have absolutely no idea what this is about,” Julia says, “I’m assuming Spock is involved because you’re cute together but also seems like a complete disaster at times too. I do know we need to be at the gate in less than eight minutes so what are you doing? What excuse can I give when you don’t show up to your destination?”

“Now what?” Nyota says, which is decidedly not an explanation or even an excuse. Nothing she says makes sense and she knows that and still she repeats herself, “What now?”

“It’s just temporary,” Julia says, “You’ll be apart for a few weeks and when you get back together again, you’ll have amazing sex. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, whatever. Now get out. Hurry up.”

In the midst of Nyota’s thoughts, which are torn between a million different pathways, she hears Julia although not as intended. If she gets on that shuttle, she leaves everything. She will always be the one who left and Spock - what will he think?

“You love each other, obviously or neither of you would put up with the other,” Julia adds, “It’s just a moment in the grand scheme of things.”

Then it hits Nyota, heady and angry. He doesn’t love her. He has shown himself already, by refusing to talk to her and acting like she did something wrong. 

It was just one moment, for both of them. He had brushed it off already, it seemed. She would get over it too, eventually, right?

“Four minutes, Nyota,” Julia says, showing her watch, “I’m getting on that shuttle. What are you doing?”

“You really think we’re a disaster?” Nyota asks. She’s grasping at straws. This is easy. This is better.

“A spectacular disaster,” Julia says, “And since when do you care?” She looks at her watch again and begins to back away. Time is running out.

Nyota pauses but only for a moment. Then she follows. 

.

.

.

The fraternization paperwork is not easy to withdraw, naturally. 

“Reason for separation?” the secretary asks. Nyota can swear the other woman is barely able to hold back a judgemental side eye. 

“Irreconcilable differences,” Nyota says, staring right back at her. She will not be looked down on, not for a fake engagement or anything else.

“You need to be more specific,” the secretary says. Now she is not hiding her discriminating expression. “What exactly was irreconcilable?”

There are many dangerous answers to that questions but one that seems mostly safe comes to mind, “Our careers”

“That’s not an option,” the secretary says, not even looking up from the PADD, “Emotional? Cognitive?” A pointed cough. “Physical?”

There is no way that is what the paperwork is asking for but Nyota accepts her punishment, “All of the above?” Except for physical incompatibilities, she thinks, feeling flush. She had to force away a smile. That much they had been very good at. 

The secretary barely glances at her before launching into a pre-written script about the importance of cohesion in the Starfleet and how cadets should think before they jump into bed together (in more polite terms of course). Then she sends a message to Nyota’s PADD summarizing their interaction.

Officially “separated”, Nyota reads the summary in the hallway.

A receipt for her failed fake relationship. Finally. Something for the mantle.

She wants to delete it, she really does. Instead it stays in her inbox, like a sore one can’t help but bother repeatedly, as if the pain means something.

.

.

.

Later, Nyota wonders if Spock got the receipt too. A few nights later, during her weekly call with Sarek and Amanda though, she swears Spock’s father seems a bit sad. This, of course, is possibly the worst part of the whole thing, she thinks.

.

.

.

It is an exceptional talk. Admiral Marks has served for an impressive sixty two years in Starfleet and once she is done talking about her experience with early subspace transmissions, or more her constant struggle with them, she goes into stories about mishaps with alien species. 

Admiral Marks is a feisty ninety six years old and still on active service. Nyota feels a giddy thrill knowing she might one day work with people like this, or even better, become one. 

Always one for post discussion talks, Nyota lingers when Admiral Marks is done speaking, hoping to ask a few questions. As she waits for her turn, she hears - 

“Why is it I see you at every single lecture?” Gaila asks. 

Nyota pauses. Admiral Marks is waiting for her to step up but Nyota feels the need to explain herself to Gaila first. “Something to do. I also have taken up running and weight lifting. It’s good for stress, you know?”

“You’re on summer vacation. Why the stress?”

Gaila had hounded her when she returned from Vulcan. Nyota had tried to sound flippant as she described what she thought was a plausible story about how she had decided it was better not to pursue Spock. At the time, Gaila had made the same expression as she was making now.

“I’m trying to keep myself entertained. I’ve also started painting with watercolors and I’m learning to play violin and I think I might get into bird watching.”

“Seems like you’re trying to stay busy.

“I’ve been waiting to be on a Starship my entire life. I’m trying to stay ahead of the anticipation,” Then, even though it is unnecessary to add, Nyota says, “It’s good to have hobbies. It’s been a long time since I had time for extracurriculars.”

Gaila doesn’t respond. She watches her and Nyota fidgets under gaze, which she suspects is what Gaila wants. 

Nyota bites her lip, “I also might try meditation - ”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can just be and sit with your thoughts,” Gaila says, her nods sardonic and her eyes vaguely sympathetic.

“It’s so good for you,” Nyota says, examining her fingernails, “I want to focus on me.”

“To prevent you from focusing on someone else?”

Gaila is shamed enough so Nyota tries to be gentle when she says, “There’s more to life than sex and relationships.”

“Agreed. I never understood the idea of better halves but love can compliment life so beautifully.”

Nyota doesn’t respond. She turns and closes the distance between herself and Admiral Marks. Just as she is opening her mouth to offer a compliment, the older woman says, “She’s right, you know.”

.

.

.

That night, when it is dark and no one can possibly be awake, Nyota almost writes to him. 

_ I’ve been talking to your parents. They told me you’ve been keeping busy. How is your research project going - _

This Nyota deletes immediately. She had taken every precaution to avoid talking about Spock during her weekly chats with Sarek and Amanda. For her part, Amanda had dutifully changed the subject every time Sarek had tiptoed around the topic. 

_ I think we should talk about what we’ll do when we’re on the Enterprise together. _

This Nyota backspaces on so aggressively, her PADD nearly falls on the floor. There is too much fear and shame and anger blocking her from being able to even think about that.

She sits in her thoughts for several minutes. She tries to think about everything bad about him. He was stubborn. He was emotionally constipated. He was withholding. 

Instead, everything good keeps popping up. He had been kind, deeply, truly kind. He had been whip smart and interesting. He had made her feel like she was something precious.

_ I keep thinking about what we could have been. _

This Nyota looks at for too long before she erases the entire draft and tosses the PADD aside. 

.

.

.

Nyota is in the dining hall, minding her own business, when she hears from a group of complaining first years that Spock is back on campus. 

“Hardest grader on the planet,” whines a balding Andorian, “I’ve heard it’s like he doesn’t want you to pass!” 

Nyota turns up the audio on the recorded lecture she is listening to but she can still make out what is being said when the Andorian’s pig-tailed blonde Orion companion bemoans, “Why do I even need to take more science classes? I’m on the command track.”

Scoffing, Nyota grabs her things and begins to leave the dining hall. She had been doing good. She hadn’t even mentioned anything related to Spock during her talks with Amanda and Sarek. She hadn’t been looking for him on campus or been listening for news. Sometimes she swore she could even think about him without feeling a jolt of something. She would not let two annoyed cadets ruin her hard work. 

Not hard work. It wasn’t difficult not to think of him.

It was - Nyota thought, It was more like - 

But before she could think up what it was like, she walked into the courtyard outside the dining hall and right up to the devil himself.

She almost doesn’t see him actually. He is on his PADD, sitting on a bench by himself in the shade of a tree. 

Something makes her glance his way, and for a brief moment, she sees him as everyone else seems to see him. His posture is rigidly perfect, his eyes dark and heavy, and his expression is placid. One wouldn’t know if he were reading a fascinating article or a terrifyingly horrible news story. 

Nyota truly sees him, not the strict teacher or the unemotive alien or the stoic scientist. She notices the parts of him that had drawn her to him. There is a slight softness around his eyes and the edge of his mouth is indented just a bit. His form is relaxed, for him at least. He is entertained by whatever it is he is looking at.

Content. Which, Nyota realizes - irrationally, not that it makes it better - stands in great contrast to how she feels. 

He’s doing just fine, she thinks, feeling her face flush.

And he looks so good, she thinks, deep down, past all her rational and irrational thoughts. The urge to have him see her is immediate along with the want for him to ignore her. 

As if he can feel her conflict, he looks at her.

She doesn’t know what she wants to see in his eyes. Shame maybe or at least annoyance, if she’s being honest. Yearning wouldn’t be bad either. Instead, it seems his expression is completely unchanged from when it was looking at whatever was on his PADD. She is no more interesting than an article on quantum theory or whatever the hell he is looking at.

Nyota turns and walks quickly away. She wants to believe there is a burning on her neck where he is watching her go but she refuses to let herself look.

.

.

.

She had every intention of going to one of her professor’s office hours after lunch. She isn’t in Dr. Sosa’s class anymore. It would be more of a social visit. 

Instead, she goes to her dorm room. It is summer and she has a single suite. The minute she is alone, she tosses her bag on the bed and leans against the door, sinking slowly to the ground. She isn’t sad or angry, much to her own surprise. She is defeated.

She sees his expression in her mind. His complete lack of any interest or concern for her. 

She thought it might be a relief. He had found a way to be free of her. Maybe she could too. 

It isn’t, though. Nyota finds she just feels very hollow, numb even.

A call comes through her PADD in that moment and she nearly jumps out of her skin. The number isn’t one she has programmed into her contacts. She almost answers it.

She doesn’t though. She ignores it and pushes her PADD under the bed and slips under the covers. Later, she notices no message was left by whoever called.

Nyota doesn’t pay much attention to it though. When she opens her PADD and notices there’s no voicemail waiting for her, she also sees that her thesis has been returned to her.

And there are, with no exaggeration, over 500 comments, written in red type, most of them negative. 

All that.

And her thesis is bleeding red.

She hides the PADD again and tucks herself back into bed. She can’t stop thinking about him and this time, she doesn’t stop herself.

.

.

.

In the end, it might very well be because she can’t sleep that she confronts Spock. It’s the endless ruminating, truly aggravating and persistent review of every part of their relationship that begins to drive her to the brinck. 

Maybe from the beginning, he had wanted her. 

But he had been the one to pull away. 

Although she couldn’t blame him seeing as how their relationships had been so awkward and undefined since the beginning. 

It couldn’t be denied though. He had turned away from her, more than once. 

She could have tried to confront him though. If nothing else, to clear the air.

Eventually she can’t function. Exhausted, emotionally strained, and a bit sexually frustrated if she’s being honest, she marches across campus to his residence and bangs on the door. This is it, she thinks, it ends now.

Spock opens quickly, alarmed by her persistent banging.

His cheeks flush green when he sees her. A cursed breeze brushes through his hair, messing it, and sending a whiff of his scent her way. His eyes, his beautiful eyes, are hazy with what can only be a warmer emotion and she throws herself at him. Kissing him fills her with a curious mix of relief, ecstasy, and want for more.

For an eternal second, he does nothing. Cold dread seeps through and she almost moves away when she feels his arms around her, pulling her until they are pressed tightly together. She sighs into his mouth and deepens the kiss, her hands grasping at him.

A hundred paged essay that took weeks to write but hours to finally finish.

Short of breath, she finally has to lean back, unable to let him go and happy to find he can’t seem to release her either. The floodgate inside of Nyota opens, “I need you to listen. I am falling in love with you.”

He seems surprised, perhaphs at what she is saying, perhaps at the fact that she is even there to begin with. 

“Nyota - ” he attempts.

She immediately interrupts him. If he argues this is wrong or, even worse, rejects her, she wants everything on the table. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re kind, you’re loyal, you’re intelligent, you’re so beautiful I could cry, and you, by some miracle, want me. I don’t know why I thought we shouldn't be together. Maybe I thought we didn’t deserve each other but we do.” 

“Nyota - ”

There is more, so much more but all she can think to add is, “Also, the thought of never having sex with you again makes me want to cry. I’m just saying that in the spirit of being completely forthright and honest. It’s just one of the many ways you are incre-

“Nyota - ”

Before he can finish his thought, the door swings open and Nyota sees that Spock had been having tea with company and they all, obviously, heard what she just said.

“Indeed,” Sarek says, clearing his throat and looking around the room in vain for a distraction.

Amanda just squeals and grabs her husband’s arm. “I knew it!”

“I’m sorry. I feel like I should know you. Who are you?” Michael asks.

A lovely Starfleet captain is also at the table, watching the scene with sparkling eyes. Philippa Georgiou, captain of the USS Shenzhou. Nyota would give anything to tell the woman that she has looked up to her since she was a child and that Capt Georgiou is a huge part of the reason she joined Starfleet but Nyota is too horrified to say anything. 

“Perhaps somewhere with more privacy,” Spock says quietly.

"Perhaps," Nyota manges to say. Then to her own horror, she adds, "Nice seeing you all."

"He probably wants to take you outside and kiss you," Amanda calls after them as Spock ushers Nyota out of the doorway. Both try not to shudder in embarrassment.

There is a small park near his home and Spock leads her there. It is empty of people and quiet with some trees to hide them from sight.

She wants to give him a moment but - "You are not saying a single word."

He stops and before she can blink she is in his arms again. He pulls her close and kisses her. Nyota almost faints with relief. Her fingers tangle in his hair and she holds him so tightly she can barely breath.

When she pulls back, out of breath again and warm all over, she tells him "I meant it all. I only stopped because we had such an audience. I just needed you to know."

His eyes sparkle and her heart sings a silly tune. He is smiling with his eye as he does and she wonders how anyone can think him inexpressive. When he speaks with his eyes, she can’t think of anything more perfect or beautiful, “It pleased me very much.”

“Did it?” She brushes his hair out of his eyes and she can't help but grin, giddy at the touch and the affection and everything else.

“Yes, the feelings are more than mutual,” he touches his forehead to hers, “I found our time apart to be agonizing. I apologize for acting in a manner that denied my true fondness. Please note it was also physically painful to hide my ardor for you.”

Her knees go weak and she sways in his arms. Spock hugs her against him to stabilize her.

“Were you sincere in everything you said?” Spock asks, “My ego is quite large right now, as humans would say, at the idea that I left such an impression on you.

“I was,” she says, a bit shy.

“I find there an innumerable amount of compliments I would want to bestow upon you. Since time is a limiting factor, may I just say you are exquisite? To say more would prolong the absence of your physical touch and I am starved for it.”

“And who am I to starve you?” Nyota says, pulling his head down to meet their lips again. His kisses seem to be getting more intent and fervent. He is learning, she thinks idly. She wonders what else she could teach him. It is not an unpleasant thought, not at all.

They linger in an embrace, enjoying the sensation of touching each other and Nyota says, trying to hide a smile, “Now that we’ve been engaged, I’d like to get to know you better.

“I would be amiable to that,” says Spock, a grin in his voice.

Nyota happens to glance back at Spock’s house. She waves as she tells him, “You know, your parents are watching us.”

“I assumed,” Spock replies. He takes her hand and begins to walk back to his home, “I hope you will not find my mother’s questions too intrusive. Her intentions are benign.”

There is nothing that could bother Nyota at that moment though. Here it is. Finally an answer to her question.

_ What now? _

This and so much more.

.

.

.

  
  


(All told, Sarek waits eight years for their wedding. He doesn’t mind.).


End file.
